


raise a glass to freedom

by hambamthankyoumaam (Random13245)



Series: The Selection AU [6]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Aromantic Martha Laurens Ramsay, F/F, F/M, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, M/M, Murphy's Law, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Prince John Laurens, Selection AU, The One AU, caste system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 21,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random13245/pseuds/hambamthankyoumaam
Summary: “Look at this,” Sybil held out a popular magazine, pointing at a small blurb, “‘Mister Alexander stunned the entire country with his beneficiary program, what doyouthink of it?’” She read it with the inflection of a news channel host. She then directed his attention to the chart showing the results of the poll- it was a pie chart. Alexander was shocked to see that just over half thought it was‘a bold, but impossible idea’.It finally comes down to this; six Elite left, three boys and three girls. Alexander is just one of them.





	1. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In- _Or_ -Out & Magazines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here, nearing the end. It's been a wild wonderful ride.

“Martha, please take this seriously.” John sighed as Martha jokingly took the slips of paper with the Elites’ names and threw them all into the ‘out’ pile. “The whole country is watching to see who gets sent home after the presentations.” He looked down at the names with dismay.

“Okay, okay.” She placed them back on the area in between them on the bed and spread them out alongside the girls’ names. “I'm just going to go down the line, you say in or out, okay?”

“Sounds good.” John nodded, already thinking about his answers.

“Kinloch.” Martha read off.

“In.” Martha smirked at how easily and quickly he answered.

“Aaron.” She parroted.

John thought for a moment, “Out.” Martha nodded and moved the slip of paper away. “I'm not even sure what his presentation was even about.”

“Me neither.” Martha agreed. “Alexander…?” She asked tentatively. She glanced at him through her bangs.

“In.” He responded firmly, though he wasn’t as sure as he sounded. She gave him a slight look, but left the slip where it was.

“Thomas.” She said in a voice that expressed her disgust for the person.

“In. He's too influential to send home just yet.” He frowned even as he said it.

“‘Yet?’” Martha made a face.

“Yeah, I couldn't imagine ever being with him, but he's powerful and good to hold onto for now.”

Martha shrugged, “Whatever you say, bro. John André.”

“Out. His presentation was…” He trailed off, waving a hand to try to express what he meant.

“Stupid?” Martha filled in.

“Yeah.” He agreed with a shrug.

“Catherine.” She went back to the list.

“In. Her presentation really captured some hearts, it was well done.” He nodded as if to show his approval of it.

Martha nodded in agreement. “Maria.”

“In.” He said without hesitation.

“If you don't mind me asking, why? She's a Six and you're not picking a girl anyway.” Martha said, still holding Maria’s slip of paper, ready to move it away.

“She's Alexander’s closest friend. And she's willing to stay and be a decoy choice.” John added the second part after feeling a bit of embarrassment. “And don't categorize everyone by their numbers.”

Martha seemed a bit startled, but didn't retaliate. “Okay… Sybil.”

“In.”

“And lastly, Peggy.”

“Out.” He said easily.

“Okay… that leaves you with six people, three boys, three girls. So really only three actual candidates and one of them you know you aren't picking so-” She raised an eyebrow.

“Don't ask me who. I… don't know.” He sighed. “If I could get the guarantee right now from Alexander that he'd stay… and that he was ready for the responsibility- I’d end the Selection right then and there. But he's… unsure still. I'm unsure, too. It's not just him. And Kinloch is steady.”

“It's kind of scummy to hold Kinloch like a back-up plan.” She said with her usual bluntness.

“Yeah…” He relented, looking away from her gaze.

“I've changed my mind, ya know?” She tilted her head slightly.

“What?” He looked at her incredulously.

“I prefer Alexander.” Martha said, much to John’s shock. “Maybe more because of the way you look when you talk about him and less because he's actually fit for the job, but…” she shrugged, “I wouldn't mind either of them as a brother-in-law, but my intuition says Alexander.”

John smiled, but it was bittersweet.

* * *

The Elite were sitting in the parlour, some of them looking through magazines at polls and studying public opinion, others watching television and chatting, when it was announced that a few of them would be going home.

Alexander’s throat constricted. Though John had told him he wasn't going to send him home, he couldn't help but worry something had happened to make that change. He wouldn't blame John for deciding that he wasn't worth fighting for anymore, he was shocked to find himself wanting to fight for the mess he'd made.

But, the advisor who was speaking for John- he must've been a meeting or maybe he grew tired of disappointing the Selected- didn't say his name. Instead, Aaron Burr, John André, and Peggy Shippen were called out. They each rose solemnly and accepted their fate with grace.

Alexander watched them get up and go to pack their things, but somehow still his throat hadn't opened back up. He could feel a familiar panic settling in and he dreaded it. Six people left- really only _three_ \- and he was one of them. He put his hand out and grabbed Maria’s, who immediately squeezed his hand. He felt relief wash over him. The panic began to melt away and he felt much better. He was here for a reason, he told himself.

They said their goodbyes to the three who were leaving once they finished packing and went back to sitting on the couch.

“Look at this,” Sybil walked over, holding out a popular magazine, pointing at a small blurb, “‘Mister Alexander stunned the entire country with his revolutionary beneficiary program, what do _you_ think of it?’” She read it with the inflection of a news channel host. She then directed his attention to the chart showing the results of the poll- it was a pie chart. Alexander was shocked to see that just over half thought it was _‘a bold, but impossible idea’_. The smallest slice said _‘a great idea’_. The rest- just above one-fourth- had chosen _‘a foolish mistake’_

“Alexander,” Maria said excitedly, “this is good! People think you're _bold_ , but they haven't really taken your proposal as seriously as you meant it, so you might get away with it.” She smiled brightly.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice still dulled with shock.

“What? What's wrong? Isn't this good?” Sybil asked, sounding unsure.

“No, yeah, it's good.” He tried to shake any remaining panic. “It's really good.” He nodded with as much enthusiasm he could muster.

He tore the page out of the magazine and carefully folded it. He tucked it into his pocket and made a mental note to show it to John later.


	2. Making Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't & Friends Can Betray You, Too & Sisterly Advice #3 (Change)

“Look,” Alexander took the folded magazine page from his pocket, “people might actually agree with me.” He said enthusiastically.

John furrowed his brows, reading the chart. “Huh.” He said, not matching Alexander’s enthusiasm by a long shot.

“...What?” Alexander said, now feeling a bit unsure.

“This just isn't the response I'd anticipated. This is very… middle of the road.” He said. “It's undeniable what you did was bold, but still saying it was ‘an impossible idea’ is a good way to go about expressing some agreement while keeping it nuanced. It could be interpreted either way.”

“Ooh, talk fancy words to me.” Alexander joked. “Sometimes you still talk like royalty.” He smiled as best as he could.

“Well, I never stopped _being_ royalty.” John pointed out, not smiling.

Alexander opened his mouth to say something, but then wasn't sure what he was going to say. How could he express that it almost seemed like before- before the stunt- he’d broken down some kind of wall and John used to talk more casually with him. Alexander hadn't heard him talk like a normal person since then. He was still unclear on where they stood, so he kept it in.

“Yeah, true. Sometimes you sound _especially_ like a rich kid is all.” He smiled, but couldn't hold John’s gaze and instead looked out over the edge of the rooftop. It was the first time he’d been back up there since John’s confession. He had missed the clear air and skyline view.

“Can't really help that, now can I?” While the question was standoffish, he said it without any bite or grit.

“S’pose you can't.” Alexander said, letting his formal language- that he'd really only started to learn since coming to the Palace- slip away.

“Alexander-” John tried to start.

“Please don't.” Alexander cut him off swiftly, fearing what he might have said. “Don't say things you don't mean.” He said as a general statement, though they both knew what he was talking about.

So instead, John scooted a little bit away from him and they sat in dead silence.

* * *

If Jacklyn had disliked Alexander before, she hated him with a burning passion now. Before, she'd disliked him simply because he wasn't the most attentive student and came into the lessons with the least experience in manners. Not that that could be helped, considering his life circumstances.

He could tell just by the look in her eye when she saw him walk into their etiquette lesson that he was about to get a lecture.

“Mister Alexander, I see you're still with us.” She said stiffly with her lips pressed together so tightly he thought she might suck them inside of her throat. Alexander hoped that maybe she would. Then, he wouldn't have to listen to her lessons anymore.

“Yes, ma’am.” He bowed in an attempt to win her over. She didn't seem swayed by his attempt at a gesture of respect. In fact, she looked annoyed if anything.

“Sit down, please, Mister Alexander.” She said without changing or softening her tone. So he did as she asked, taking a seat next to Maria and keeping his mouth shut during the lesson.

“What the hell was that?” Maria asked on their way out of the lesson, grabbing Alexander's arm before he could escape.

“She's not exactly pleased with me. Or maybe she's not happy that I'm still here.” He waved a hand dismissively, “Probably both.”

“Okay, but the bowing? Really, Alexander.” She sounded almost disappointed. He made a face.

“What? I was trying to fix things with her as silently as possible.” He shrugged, not sure why Maria was so upset.

“Yeah, I guess, but it's always been us versus her during these lessons, you've gone soft.” She definitely sounded angry now, which startled him.

Alexander decided not to remind Maria it was her idea that put him in this position in the first place.

“I just feel like I've lost my only ally in this hell hole.” She looked away, sounding more sad than angry now. Alexander frowned, trying to grab her gaze if only for a moment.

“Sorry, Maria… I'm just doing what I have to to get by right now…” He knew excuses were weak, but they were all he had.

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled at him, but it was tight, almost stressed. He mirrored her grin.

* * *

John walked into his sister’s room completely unannounced. “Martha I need your help.”

Martha looked up from her work- some advisor papers to fill out. “Dare I ask what with?” She didn’t seem alarmed by the sudden intrusion.

He was wringing his hands, visibly nervous, “Winning Alexander back.” He looked askance, almost guiltily.

“What do you mean?” She squinted suspiciously. “And how could _I_ help you with that? I know nothing about romance!” She threw her arms up in defeat. He laughed for a moment at her theatrics, but he quickly went back to being serious.

“He won't even give me the chance to try and tell him… how I feel… again,” he danced around the words, “but in a more genuine way.” He sighed. “He just… cuts me off and shuts me out. He told me not to say things I didn't mean, so I didn't even want to try. He wouldn't believe me.”

“Oh, Jack.” Martha shook her head. “You can be so dense sometimes.” She closed her eyes and continued to shake her head.

“What?” He frowned, caught somewhere between confused and offended. He didn't know what she meant, but he thought she was insulting him.

“You've scared him. Didn't you say his- friends? sisters? whatever- told you that it would?” He nodded and Martha continued, “The key is patience. Give him time. Bring it up when the dust from this whole,” she waved her hands wildly, “debacle settles.” She smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. “Maybe he'll come to you, wouldn't that be nice for a change?”

“Change,” John echoed, “change sounds incredibly wonderful.”


	3. Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy (Change) & Just Stupid & Matchmaker #1 (Motherly Wisdom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to progress some of the minor/background relationships. They need some love.

“I don't know what to think.” Maria said quietly to Sybil. They were sitting in Sybil’s room, legs crossed on the floor.

“I think you should go a bit easier on him. He's trying to fix what _your_ idea left him with.” She pointed out. Maria sighed.

“Yeah, but…” she sighed, “I’m scared.” She admitted softly.

“Of what?” Sybil’s tone shifted to concerned.

“Going home. I-I've only told Alexander about this, but I have a ‘fiancé,’” she did finger quotes to show how loosely she was using the term, “who paid for my hand.”

“What? How could your family do that?” Now she sounded outraged.

“We’re _Sixes_ , Sybil. Maybe you don't get it ‘cos you're a Four, but money is almost nonexistent in our lives.” Her voice cracked slightly. “So now you and him are the only ones who know.”

“How- sorry if this sounds insensitive- but how does this tie into you being upset with him?”

“I-I don't know.” She admitted, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I think it's just hitting me now that he's staying and I’m leaving.”

“What? You're leaving?”

“Eventually.” Maria laughed. “So will you.”

“Oh.” Sybil sighed with relief, which surprised Maria a little bit. “What makes you so sure he's staying forever?”

“Please.” Maria rolled her eyes through the tears that were building behind them. “Have you seen the way him and John look at each other?” She snorted, trying to force herself to be okay with it.

“He's not going to stop being your friend just because he's falling in love.” Sybil said all the right words in that moment.

“It's not logical of me at all to be jealous.” Maria muttered to herself. “I don't even know what exactly I'm jealous _of_. The fact that he gets to live happily ever after? Or maybe I'm jealous of John, for getting to spend all that time with Alexander.” Maria shook her head, “That's not to say I like Alexander beyond friendship, just that… well have you ever had a friend suddenly get into a relationship and you feel pushed aside?”

“Yeah. My best friend back home.” Sybil nodded. “I understand what you mean. It's a different kind of jealousy.”

“And you feel like a horrible person for being jealous in the first place because your friend is happy and you are for them but not _enough_. And seeing him _bow_ to Jacklyn was just ridiculous, that's not the Alexander I know.”

“People change.” Sybil pulled Maria close and hugged her. “You'll be fine.”

“You really think so? Even when I go home?” Her doubts leaked through.

“I think you're smart enough and brave enough to figure it out.” She retracted slightly from the hug, leaving very little space between them before closing it again, this time, though, kissing her.

* * *

“What the hell, Alexander, why didn't you tell me earlier?” Eliza was fuming, he could hear it clearly over the phone.

“I panicked. I'm just now coming down from it.” He tried to come up with an excuse.

“And what the hell was that for your presentation?” He could hear her pacing.

“I thought I was leaving.” He shrugged as if she could see it. “I wanted to go out with a bang.”

“Well you didn't end up leaving.” She paused. “Why didn't you?”

Alexander thought about that. When it came down to it, what was the core reason why he didn't leave? He shifted the phone to his other ear. “Well, John didn't want me to leave and I realized I didn't want to leave either… so he fought for me to stay…”

“Oh my god.” Eliza almost sounded like she was laughing, and Alexander would've assumed she was if he didn't know better. “That's stupidly romantic.”

“Or just stupid.” He said pessimistically.

“Alexander, you've got to be in love.” Her tone shifted to dreamy. “Have you ever listened to yourself talk about him? Even just saying his name, you sound drunk.”

“Oh, you mean like how you sound when you ask about Maria?” He teased with a sly smirk that she couldn't see, but she could hear.

“No!” She snapped, but she wasn't really angry, more embarrassed. “Maybe. A little.”

“Or maybe the way you talked about Sybil for a solid hour after you'd met her-”

“Shut up, Alexander!” He just laughed, happy to have the attention drawn away from him and what he might be feeling. He still couldn’t say for sure how he felt. He was back at square one; he knew he did not want leave, but but he was not sure he wanted to stay forever.

“They like you, too, by the way.” He said casually.

“Are you trying to play matchmaker, Alexander Hamilton? Instead of focusing on your own romantic endeavors?” She accused him. She was joking, but only a little bit.

“Maybe I am. What of it, Miss Schuyler?” He smiled deviously. He was getting away with it, too. “Doesn't this help you?”

“I suppose.” She said slowly. “Could you maybe give them my number?”

Alexander almost burst out laughing, but held it in. “Yeah, yeah I could. What do I get in return, though?”

“My undying love and affection?” Eliza offered sweetly.

“Hm… I might accept that. What about advice?” He asked.

“Do I look like some kind of Dear Abby column?” She joked.

“Maybe you do, Lizzie. But really, I could use some of your motherly wisdom right now.” He knew right where to hit to get her heart to bleed. “And your knowledge of the upper caste society.” He admitted as an afterthought.

“Okay, deal. You give my number to the two cute girls I _might_ like, and I'll pass on some wisdom.”

“How do I make myself popular with the upper castes again? I mean, the lower castes love me, but overall in the long run, if I want to be a viable option in the Selection, I need the upper castes to support me.”

“Hm… I might have some ideas.”


	4. Dynamic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchmaker #2 (Family) & What Is Fair (Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy focus on family dynamics. Sets up some emotions for later.

Maria bust into Alexander’s room, either not noticing or choosing not to care about his butlers being there. “Sybil kissed me.”

“Wait what?” Alexander sat up in his chair, shocked both by the sudden intrusion and the statement. He set his cards down, effectively putting the game on hold. Maria just nodded, a bit frantically.

“Yeah.” She confirmed, continuing to nod.

“Um, guys, could you excuse us for just a moment?” Alexander said to his butlers, not really waiting for a response before rushing out with Maria in tow. “Okay, now _what_.” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“She kissed me.”

“And…?” He made a circular motion with his hand.

“And… I freaked out a bit.” She furrowed her brows, look distressed.

“How much is a bit?” He tilted his head, trying to measure up the situation. “Wait- no,” he suddenly decided that wasn't the question he wanted to ask, “how did you even get into this situation in the first place?”

Maria looked away. “Well… we were talking in her room-”

“Alone?” His eyes widened.

“-Yes alone, now shush,” she waved a hand dismissively, “we were talking, she was comforting me… and we were just so close and she leaned in and kissed me.”

Alexander wasn't sure what to say. He sighed heavily. “Is this a bad time to tell you Eliza wants me to give you her number?” He reached for the first thing he could think of.

“Yeah, kind of… but could you write it down for me?”

Alexander laughed. “Yes, yes I can. But back to the pressing matter here, Sybil kissed you?”

“Yes, how many times do I have to say it?” She sounded exasperated.

“I guess until I get over the shock.” He tried to joke.

“Oh god I like her.” Maria said suddenly, as if she was just now realizing this.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I could've told you that.”

“Shut _up_.” Maria huffed. “I could tell you a lot about you, too.”

“Please don't.” He shook his head. “But, hey, all I'm saying is, you like her, she likes you, and Eliza likes both of you.” He grinned, looking the cat that just caught the canary.

Maria narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to play matchmaker?” She accused. Alexander had to hold back laughter at the sheer similarity to his previous conversation with Eliza about the same topic.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, trying to shake the giggling. “Are you complaining?”

“Well, no.” She admitted. “But…” She chewed on her lip anxiously.

“What?” He frowned. He thought he was doing something good for his friends, but Maria’s response rose doubts inside him.

Maria let out a huge breath. “I can't just pretend James doesn't exist.”

“James?” He tried to remember her mentioning a James.

“James Reynolds. My… fiancé.”

“Oh.” It hit him just what that meant. “Well- Eliza’s a Two and Sybil’s a Four, and you actually want to be with them, surely that’s enough to make your family change their mind.”

“If they were guys, maybe it would.” Maria said defeatedly. “Shit.”

“Maria you're a Three now, you don't have to go back to your family at all.”

“But they're my _family_ , Alexander.” She looked him dead in the eye. He had to look away. He didn't know what family meant. What was it like to have that sense of having to return to someone?

“Sorry.” He said quietly. Her glare softened.

“Whatever… I'll figure it out eventually.”

* * *

“I believe Maria and Sybil may have started a… relationship.” John told his sister. “For lack of a better way to phrase it.” He winced at his own wording, it was really stiff- he was reminded of what Alexander had said about the way he talked. He wasn't sure why it suddenly started bothering him.

“So, send them home together?” Martha suggested like it wasn't a more complex situation than that. He sat down in despair.

“I don't know if I can. If I do, I'm left with one girl and Father’s already suspicious. He's still really upset that Alexander is still here. I’ve tested the waters too many times now and I know they're too hot for me.” He admitted.

“Okay… but if either of them gets caught, they could be publicly caned for ‘treason.’” She pointed out, putting finger quotes around treason. He understood why, it would technically be called treason for cheating on the Prince, who is supposed to be the Selecteds’ only romantic interest, but really they both knew he wasn't interested in them. It wasn't really treason when one gave it some thought, but if they got caught, he'd have to punish them for it.

“I know.” He closed his eyes. “There's no good answer here.”

“Either way, someone's going to get hit.” She muttered, almost sounding angry at the situation.

“Martha-” His head shot up, suddenly keenly aware of what she was implying.

“I'm not blind, Jack.” She said plainly, as if anyone with eyes could see past the heavy façade he'd built. “In fact, I’m quite observant. I see the way you flinch whenever he vaguely reaches toward you, or when someone touches your back.” He was relieved in some sense that the things she noticed weren't obvious things, but rather the stuff one would notice if they watched closely.

“Has he-? I mean, to you-?” He couldn't seem to find his voice, his throat closed off every sentence abruptly.

“No,” she shook her head, looking away, “no he hasn't. He hasn't.. been like that to any of the younger ones, either.”

John let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” He said softly.

“It's not good… he shouldn't-” She was shaking her head more insistently now, putting a hand on his arm.

“I can take it, Martha. If he was hurting the others I'd find some way to redirect it to me.” He looked at her, but she was unable to hold his gaze for more than a moment.

She fell into his side, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her. “S’not fair, Jack.” She mumbled into his chest. He noted with a slight fondness how causal her language had become, easily slurring words together.

“No, it's not.” He agreed and kissed her forehead. “But we’ll be okay.”


	5. Achieved VS. Ascribed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chains & Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this chapter was to finish it without using line breaks. I surprised myself by managing it.
> 
> This is a lot of John's inner thoughts and feelings. A peak into what's deep in his mind.
> 
> Title stolen from a sociological concept of status that one earns versus the status one is given.

“John?” The relative silence and almost peace that had settled upon them in the cool night air shattered.

“Hm?” He looked at Alexander, but his expression was unreadable.

“What's family like?”

The question perplexed John for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” He chewed on his lower lip. John had to remind himself this was clearly a serious conversation and not the time to kiss him, but the way he toyed with his lip between his canines was tempting. “A friend of mine doesn't really get along well with their family,” John noticed the vagueness of the description, “but they still feel like they need to keep in contact with and go home to their family.”

“Oh,” John looked away, thinking about it. It hit him that of course Alexander didn't understand, the only real family he'd ever had died when he was very young. “Think about how you feel about the Schuyler sisters.”

“I mean, yeah, but…” He trailed off, his brows scrunched together in thought. “But I don't have problems- for lack of a better word- with them. I mean obligatory family.” He clarified. “The family you choose and the family you're born into are two different concepts.”

John frowned. He understood what Alexander was trying to say, but it raised a strange feeling inside of him. The more he thought about it, he couldn't really think of anyone who he'd consider chosen family. And then, how could he describe the intrinsically linked feeling between members of blood family?

“I… don't know.” He admitted. He thought of his own father. To say their relationship had problems was an understatement, so why did he still feel a deep-seated tie to his father? Sure, there was resentment. He resented his father for how he handled things- both his emotions and the country- but he never found himself hating him. He was, after all, his father no matter what.

“Sorry, it was a stupid question. I don't know what kind of answer I was looking for.” Alexander sighed, having to accept the fact that he just wasn't going to be able understand.

“No,” John said immediately, not liking the self-deprecating way Alexander spoke, “no, it wasn't stupid. In fact, it’s quite a complex question. So much so it's just… very difficult to explain the way you feel,” he paused, picking his words carefully, “permanently tied to your family.”

Alexander made a face, though John wasn't sure what it meant, it looked unpleasant. “So… if someone had issues with their family, would those ties feel more like chains?”

“I suppose they would.” He agreed. He could almost feel the weight of his chains, connecting him to his father. It wasn't until Alexander had said it- phrased the way he did, _chains_ \- that he began to feel chained. Or maybe it simply gave a label to what he'd been feeling since nine years old. Chains, the large metal clamps bracing his wrists and the large metal links leading to his father.

One weaker set of chains led from him to his mother. Or rather, his mother's grave. He didn't exactly feel chained to her, or her memory, but he wished he could let go of it, just like he wanted to with the connection to his father.

Though, it wasn't fair to compare the two, his mother was sweet and warm and smelled like honey, his father was rough and cold and angry. They were different kinds of people and therefore created different kinds of chains. The only reason his connection to his mother could be considered chains was because he somewhat still resented her for leaving him with his father. Although, she loved his father, so did she really see his darker side? Did she know what a monster he would become without her?

If she was still around, would his father be the way he is? And if he was still the same short tempered man he is today, would she know? And if she knew-

“You okay?” Alexander looked at him with sincere concern. “Spaced out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, yes,” he found the presence of mind to correct his own grammar even as he came out of the fog of his thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Forget I brought it up.” Alexander said quietly. “Don't think too hard about it.”

He didn't want to think so instead he placed two fingers under Alexander’s chin and tipped his head back just enough to kiss him.

Alexander easily accepted the distraction, sliding his hands around John’s neck and gently flicking his fingers over the short, shaved hairs at the base of John’s hairline.

John sighed contentedly into the kiss, feeling a growing sense of chosen family. A feeling he quickly squashed before it could get settled in his mind. He couldn't let himself get attached like that when his relationship with Alexander was still on the rocks, despite the moment of calm in the storm that was this slice of time.

Alexander moved his lips against his, and all thoughts and feelings melted away easily. But then a thankfulness rose. He wasn't sure where he'd be without Alexander there to keep him in check and provide a much needed distraction from what was stressing him out. Alexander was brash, and that was exactly what John needed in someone.

He finally managed to separate his feelings for Alexander and for Kinloch. Kinloch had a much softer personality, much more gentle in handling certain situations, which wasn't a _bad_ trait necessarily, but it was something John valued in Alexander. He reminded him of his sister with his matter-of-fact honesty and almost entire lack of tact. John really did need someone like Alexander in his life, someone who wasn't afraid of disagreeing and downright arguing. Someone who didn't stray from the truth just because it could hurt.

This time when the sense of chosen family started to swell in his chest, he couldn't find the heart to push it down like he had before.


	6. Terms Of Endearment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realization (Swear Jar #1) & Dearest, Sweetheart, Hun, Love, Darling (Goddamn Dumbass) & Admission (Finally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or; In Which We Are All Maria Yelling At Alexander To Fucking Talk To John

“Oh, fuck.” Alexander slammed down the superficial magazine he was browsing as something finally hit him.

“What?” Maria looked over at him perplexed. Sybil had her arm inconspicuously wrapped around Maria’s waist.

“I love him.” He said, sounding a bit dazed, maybe distant, and very confused. Maria laughed. This wasn't how he'd expected to realize one way or the other how he felt, he'd figured he'd be alone in his room about to fall asleep when it would hit him. Not now, sitting in the parlour with Maria and Sybil next to him. He hadn't even been thinking about it, he was just reading some mindless article in a gossip magazine when it smacked him upside the head.

“Yeah,” Maria looked back to her book, clearly a bit bored with his life-changing realization, “I could've told you that.” She smirked, aware of how she was using his own words against him now.

“Fuck.” Alexander repeated, looking down at the magazine blankly, as if it had answers or advice that could help him. Maybe there was a girly advice column titled _A Quick Guide On Dealing With The Painful Realization That You Are In Love With A Prince_ or maybe _A Crash Course On Being Hopelessly In Love With Royalty_ , but he doubted it. It was, to be fair, a very specific situation he was in at the moment.

Sybil smirked, too, “You okay there, bud?” She raised an eyebrow, half concerned and half teasing.

“Fuckin’ fantastic.” He said, almost snapping but keeping his voice down enough that it wasn't quite there.

“We should start a swear jar. How many f-bombs are you at now?” Sybil pretended the count on her hand. “If you want to marry royalty you should probably clean up your language first. Should I go get the soap and shove it down your throat? Ya know, just to get ahead?”

Maria elbowed her, “Hush,” she muttered, “Alexander, dearest, maybe you should talk to John?”

“No,” he said immediately, “ _God_ no.” There was a slight hint of a laugh to his words, but it was easily lost in the seriousness of his tone.

Sybil rolled her eyes and Maria elbowed her again. “You should definitely talk to him.”

“Did I fucking stutter?” He looked at her, somewhere between laughing and screaming. He tried to use humor to defuse the storm inside of his mind.

“Another dollar for the swear jar.” Sybil pointed a finger at him accusingly.

“The nonexistent swear jar.” He reminded her, mirror her pointed finger.

“Fair enough.” She set her hands back down into her lap instead.

“Alexander, sweetheart,” Maria began again, “you're my friend, and I love you,” he started to sense where she going with this, “but you are being a goddamn dumbass.”

“Two for the swear jar.” He deflected.

“Alexander, hun.” She smiled, a bit patronizingly. “You can't just ignore what I actually said.”

“I can.”

“You shouldn't.”

“But I will.”

“Alexander, love, please.” She pleaded. “Just go talk to him. He's already said it, doesn't that make it easier?”

“No, because I should've said it back when he said it the first time. I should’ve accepted it from the beginning, I should’ve not pushed him away, I should’ve done something mild and normal for my presentation.” He was breathing heavily now, eyes wide.

“Alexander, Alexander, darling, calm down.” Maria patted his arm, grounding him to the real world once again. “Now, for God’s sake, go _talk_ to him, you idiot!”

* * *

“John.” Alexander was wringing his hands a bit aggressively.

“Hey,” John smiled as he slid open the sliding door that led to the roof. “It's a lovely afternoon.”

“Yes, it is.” Alexander looked over the edge, content to stick to small talk if he could. He was visibly tense, though, with his hands in his lap tightly wound and one leg bouncing.

“Are you alright?” John said, noting his tense posture and the stressed atmosphere that hung around him.

“Fine, I’m fine.” He managed to choke out. He'd rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say a thousand times by now but somehow the script was lost to him now. He glued his eyes to a tree in the distance, refusing to look John’s way.

“Are you sure?” John moved to sit next to him, which caused Alexander to inadvertently jump a bit. “You seem a bit on edge.” He pointed out the obvious.

“No, no,” Alexander insisted, “I'm fine.” He finally forced himself to look John in the eye, which caused his face to flush. The way John was watching him so intently, so genuinely concerned, sent a pang in his chest.

“Alexander,” John frowned, putting a hand over Alexander’s to try to provide some security, “please don't lie to me.”

“I just- realized something.” He shuffled nervously.

“Alexander…?” His tone was questioning, wondering where Alexander was going with this. He felt a sudden pang of fear, wondering if Alexander was going to decide he actually did want to leave.

“Um,” he swallowed audibly, “well,” he moved his hand out from under John’s, “I,” he twisted his fingers in his palm, “shit,” he muttered to himself.

“Alexander, where are you going with this?” John asked softly, afraid of scaring him again.

Instead of saying anything, Alexander put a hand on the side of John’s face and pulled him down slightly into a kiss. It wasn't that John disliked it, but it wasn't an answer and he pulled away slowly.

“Alexander.” He repeated.

“I love you.” Alexander finally spat out, clearly having said the words over and over in his head.

“Alexander,” John felt stunned, “I- what?” He was sure he had heard him wrong.

“I love you.” He repeated with more conviction this time around. “I'm sorry it took me so long to- even just- it just kind of hit me this morning.” His sentences were less than coherent, but his point got across.

“I love you, too.” John whispered, now finding himself struggling to maintain eye contact. Alexander started to laugh, a nervous sound bubbling up from his chest. “Why are you laughing?” John couldn't help but laugh, too, but he wasn't sure why.

“We’re idiots.” Alexander said after a moment of laughter.

John huffed, “Yeah.”


	7. Natural Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upside(Down) & Mother & Lost Bets & Fear≠Inability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or; Maria Finally Says What Really Needed To Be Said (Goddamn Alexander For Fuck's Sake This Should Be Obvious)

John laid back, hanging upside down off the edge of his sister’s bed with her. “You were right, you know?” He said. He let his neck end slightly the wrong direction as the blood rushed to his head.

“What do you mean?” She turned to face him, her face flushed from being upside down too. He turned to face her, making eye contact.

“About letting Alexander come to me.” He turned away again, unable to hold the eye contact. “He did.”

“What?” She was almost shocked enough to attempt to sit up, but the process was much too difficult and required too much effort for her to bother in the end. She stayed where she was, but looked bewildered.

“He sent for me, to meet up on the roof,” he ignored Martha’s snickers at that, “and he talked to me.” He breathed out slowly.

“And…?” She waved her arms up before letting them flop back down on either side of her head. She looked at him exasperatedly.

“He…” John paused, looking away for a moment, then looking back at her, “He told me he loves me.” He almost found himself laughing again, the way he had done on the roof with Alexander.

“What?” Now the shock was enough to propel her into an upright position, looking down at John who stayed hanging off the side of the bed as if nothing life changing had been said. “Jack,” she pulled on his arm in a futile attempt at pulling him up to sit next to her instead of where he was currently sprawled out. Her efforts were futile and she gave up, throwing her brother's arm back at him.

He ended up pushing himself to a sitting position even while she childishly threw his arm into his face. “Uh, yeah.” He said awkwardly as he crossed his legs.

“So? Can you not just end the Selection now? Live happily ever after or some shit?” She waved her hands wildly. “Isn't that all you wanted?”

“Yes, but…”

“There's always a but…” Martha rolled her eyes at her brother’s indecision.

“Well, for one he's still not sure about the whole… royalty thing,” he mumbled inarticulately, “and for another… Father.” He said concisely. He didn't want to elaborate on what he meant by that, and Martha didn't need him to, she understood.

“Father… Father has an idea in his mind of what all of his children are going to do with their life. That idea typically involves heterosexuality.” She tried to joke, laughing dryly.

“Yes, I know.” John matched her humorless laugh.

“But, the Selection is completely under your control.” She reminded him.

“Not completely.” He pointed out bitterly.

“Okay, maybe not completely, but mostly.” She relented.

“I'm still scared.” He admitted quietly. “To tell him, I mean.”

“I think he already knows,” Martha responded in the same hushed tone, “he just refuses to come to terms with it.”

“Do you think… do you think Mom would’ve been okay with… with me.” He asked, not sure if he wanted the truth or a beautiful lie.

“She loved you, Jack.” Martha said instead of giving a clear answer. He sure how to feel about it. On one hand, she wasn't lying to him. On the other, she was clearly avoiding the actual question. She wasn't sure either, and that kind of hurt when he thought too much about it.

“So does Father.” He said indignantly.

“But differently.” She said. “Don't compare Mom to him.” Her tone turned slightly angry.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “but… that doesn't answer my question.”

“She would've loved you no matter what.” Martha said with finality.

* * *

“I talked to him.” Alexander said to Maria the next day.

“And…?” Her eyes widened in anticipation.

“I-I told him.” He kept it short and vague. He wasn't sure if he could repeat the exact words.

“Really?” She looked genuinely shocked. “Sybil and I had placed bets on whether or not you'd actually say it.” She admitted. “I owe her now. Why couldn't you have messed it up, huh?” She teased.

“Whatever,” he meant to sound bitter but laughed despite himself at how put out she seemed, “how much did you lose anyway?”

“Oh,” she giggled, “I didn't lose any money.”

“Gross!” Alexander said once he understood what she was implying. He grabbed the nearest pillow off the couch they were sitting on and whacked her with it. “You guys are disgusting.”

“Maybe.” Maria shrugged. “But that's not important,” she pointed a manicured nail into his nose, “you, my dear, are in deep.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drew the word out, her patience stretched thin, “you're legit in love. And with a _prince_ , no less.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I know.”

“And he's in love with you, isn't he?” The question was innocent, but Alexander’s face flushed.

“Yes.” He mumbled.

“So why am I still here? Why is anyone still here? Why aren't there wedding bells and camera crews and cheesy speeches?” Maria rambled off all of what she could think of that should be happening in her eyes.

“I,” Alexander thought about this, his answer suddenly lost to him, “Because, love aside, I’m not…” He gestured to himself. “I'm not fit for this. I'm a Six, I’m clumsy and unmannered…”

“Alexander.” Maria’s voice was stern. “I have never met anyone who was more fit for this. Your public speaking skills are miles above anyone else in this competition. So you're a bit unrefined, but you're a natural politician.”

Alexander preened slightly under the praise. “I don't know…”

“I'm not finished,” Maria pressed a finger to his lips, “you, my friend, have a real talent for talking to people. I think you could've convinced the upper castes to be on board with your plan to dissolve the castes if you were given enough time.” She insisted.

“Maria…”

“You're scared,” She continued, “of being in the spotlight all the time, and of the responsibility, but fear doesn't equal inability.” She pointed out, poking her finger now into his chest. “You can do this.”


	8. (Empty) Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proud Of Your Boy & Dinnertime Drama #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brownie points if you catch the shameless Broadway reference in the summary ;)

“So,” Eliza started slowly, “you've made up your mind?” She sounded hesitant, as if she didn't want to risk asking it, but did anyway.

“Yeah. I think so,” Alexander responded, “no, no. I know so.” He forced himself to correct his statement and to add more confidence to the tone.

“I'm proud of you.” Eliza said after a moment of silence.

“Huh?” Alexander froze for a split second and then furrowed his brows, though Eliza couldn't see his expression through the phone.

“I said I'm proud of you.” She repeated firmly. “I know this wasn't easy for you to decide. I mean, how many times have I listened to you go on and on about how frighteningly big the Palace is? Let alone the responsibility of being royalty. So, I’m proud of you for coming to a conclusion finally.”

“Oh,” He felt a surge of love for Eliza and a warmth spread from the words _‘proud of you’_ all across his chest.

“So,” he could hear her sly smile, “when’s the wedding?”

He let himself chuckle a bit at that. “Not for awhile, calm down.”

* * *

“Alexander, are you alright?” Kinloch put a hand on his arm, jolting him slightly.

“Yes.” He said with a fervent nod. He had spaced out during dinner.

Jefferson scoffed. “Probably thinking about having to get ready to leave.” He muttered to his fork as he took another bite of food. Kinloch fixed him a with a harsh glare. Jefferson glared back and stabbed his food a bit more violently than necessary. Kinloch’s eyes narrowed, Jefferson’s eyebrows lowered. Alexander watched quietly as they exchanged some kind of silent argument over the table.

He shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond to the situation. For one, he could handle Jefferson on his own, but for another he was almost flattered by Kinloch’s attempts to defend him, even if they were silent. But, he didn't know how to handle someone defending him like that, it wasn't an occurrence he was used to dealing with.

Alexander silently returned his attention to his food instead of acknowledging what was going on around him.

Jefferson laughed meanly, “You don't even have a response to that?” He kicked at Alexander under the table to get his attention. “Does that mean it's true?” He asked, and if Alexander didn't know any better he might've thought there was the slightest twinge of concern to his voice, but this was Jefferson.

“No.” He scoffed. “Of course not.” He didn't want to say the full truth; the fact that he wasn't thinking of having to leave, but choosing to stay. He still hadn't told John that he'd finally decided, but John had made it clear before that if Alexander could be sure, the Selection would be over right then and there. Still, his nerves made it difficult to work up to telling him.

“Hm, that's too bad.” Jefferson smirked coldly.

“Why? Am I so much of a threat that I scare you?” Alexander teased, tilting his head slightly and feigning real concern. He enjoyed the moment of real annoyance that showed through Jefferson’s tough façade.

Jefferson scoffed harshly, “Of course not. I just think it's about time the Prince pull the weeds from this process.” He smiled sweetly, but venomously.

“Oh, when are you leaving?” Alexander shot back.

“Guys,” Kinloch interjected, “not the place to fight.”

Alexander realized then Kinloch wasn't necessarily defending _him_ earlier, but rather playing peacemaker and defending the general quiet of the dinner table. Which wasn't a bad thing, Alexander could handle that over being protected. He sealed his lips, content to just continue dinner without saying another word, as long as Jefferson didn’t continue speaking.

As it turned out, Jefferson couldn't keep his mouth shut. “We’re not _fighting_.” He insisted. “Simply having a conversation at a slightly higher than normal volume.” He shot Kinloch the same sweet yet venomous smile. Kinloch rolled his eyes. “Besides, he's not the interesting one here,” Jefferson continued, “but rather, his little friends.” He waggled a finger between Sybil and Maria. Alexander felt a flare of his protective instincts.

“Leave them alone.” He snapped, almost slapping his fork down on the table, but resisting and instead reaching for his water to try and calm himself down.

“Do you know how easily I could report you two for _cheating_ ,” he drew the word out, “on the Prince?”

Sybil flinched slightly, “You wouldn't.”

“Try me.” The tip of his mouth quirked up. A pang of worry shot through Alexander’s body.

“John wouldn't care.” He pointed out, trying to make it sound like he knew what he was saying for sure. He wasn't one hundred percent certain of that, maybe John _would_ care, but he was almost positive that he wouldn't. For the sake of calling Jefferson’s bluff just enough to scare him out of going through with it, though, he had to act as though he knew for sure.

“No, maybe not,” Jefferson looked down at his food for a moment, “but the press would have a field day.”

Maria tensed next to him. Alexander understood, and reached out to grab her hand. If the press found out, her family found out, and whatever she'd have to face from that point forward from her family would be far worse than whatever punishment befell her at the hands of the crown.

“But,” Jefferson took a sip of his drink, “that is none of _my_ business.” He curled his lip sinisterly. “Just watch out for those camera crews, they can be like flies on rotten food with a juicy scandal like this.” Kinloch looked over at Sybil and Maria sympathetically.

Alexander grabbed Maria’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He would not let that happen. He would not let his friends get hurt like that, he could not even imagine the punishment that would be dealt by the crown for breaking what was a law, let alone the shame and disownership of their families. He shuddered just thinking about it.

He would not let that happen.


	9. Anything For Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerves & Mary Eleanor & Decorations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or; Finally Establishing A Time Frame (And Mary Eleanor Is Adorable)

It wasn't until someone pointed it out that Alexander realized how close to Christmas it was. Maybe it was the warm weather of the capital or the rush of the Selection, but he'd lost track of the time. It was Maria who reminded him. She mentioned how unusual it was that it was warm this time of year- _“so close to Christmas”_ \- and asked, idly, if this was the usual winter weather in the capital (it was, as Jefferson pointed out, he'd been living here his whole life and knew the weather like the back of his hand).

“What do you think we’re going to do for Christmas?” Sybil asked, placing her hand over Maria’s hand and twining her fingers between Maria’s fingers.

“Something extravagant, I'm sure.” Alexander snorted, trying act as though he knew how close it was to Christmas in the first place. He wasn't really shocked by it, but rather just a bit disoriented. Time had moved by so quickly he was starting to lose his sense of space.

“I bet the lights will be pretty.” Maria added with a dreamy tone to her voice. He could almost see the reflection of Christmas lights in her eyes already.

“There's going to be a ton of cameras.” Alexander pointed out, a bit nervously, not having forgotten Jefferson's threat the other evening. Maria retracted her hand from Sybil’s hand as if it had suddenly morphed into a hot stove top and burned her; as if the cameras were right there and could see their interlocked fingers, perhaps zoom in on them and criminalize the small signifier of intimacy.

“Yeah.” Maria said softly, holding her own hand and rubbing it as if she really had been burned.

“Maria…” Sybil looked at her, seeming slightly hurt. It was obvious how much it stung to have Maria pull away so quickly.

“Sorry, sorry,” she returned her hand, “the threats from Jefferson just… have me on edge, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Sybil breathed out, “me too.”

“Empty threats.” Alexander said sternly. “I will not let that happen to you guys.”

“What can you really do to stop it?” Maria pointed out, just a bit pessimistically.

Alexander paused. He hadn't considered that, he just knew he was not going to let Jefferson ruin their lives like that. “Just… help you guys keep track of cameras and interviewers and know where you're safe.” He said after thinking about it for a second.

Maria smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” _Anything for family,_ he added internally.

* * *

“What are we doing for Christmas, Jack?” Mary Eleanor tugged on John’s pants sleeve.

“Uh,” he looked down at his youngest sister, pulling on his leg not unlike how Martha had pulled on his arm before, “I’m not sure, Mary, have you asked Father?”

“Yes, but he didn't listen to me.” She pouted, jutting her bottom lip out exaggeratedly.

John sighed. “C’mere.” He gestured for her to hop into his arms and she did. He held her on his hip and walked to Martha’s room. “Dun-dun-duh-dah!” He dramatically mimicked music as he walked Mary Eleanor into Martha's room. “The Princess,” Mary Eleanor giggled at the title, “would like to discuss Christmas plans.”

“Has she consulted Father?” Martha responded with similar language. John fixed her with a look that answered her question. “Well, come sit and we’ll plan something.”

“Wonderful.” John set Mary Eleanor on Martha’s lap.

“First, we should do something with the Selection.” Martha said, looking over Mary Eleanor’s head at John.

“You're right.” He admitted, though he didn't like it. “But, what?”

“Some kind of party, a dance maybe?” She suggested, still talking over Mary Eleanor.

“A dance.” John nodded. “That would be fun, right?” He looked down at Mary Eleanor, who smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He smiled back.

“Okay, so a dance. What about decorations…?” Martha prompted.

“Well,” John huffed a laugh as Martha started bouncing her knee, causing Mary Eleanor to giggle, “lots of green and red?” He said, more a question than a statement.

“Yes.” Martha agreed with a nod. “You're absolutely useless, Jack.” She sighed, half joking.

“Hey!” He bristled slightly, not really insulted, but a bit miffed. Martha laughed

“Colors are obvious. What _kind_ of decorations, you idiot.” She rolled her eyes, placing her hands Mary Eleanor’s sides and holding tightly to keep her steady while still bouncing her up and down on one knee.

“Uh,” John rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he _was_ a bit useless in this situation. “Tinsel?” He said slowly.

Martha snorted. “Yeah, okay, tinsel.” She nodded through her laughs, “A tree would be a good idea.”

“Oh,” John resisted the urge to swear at his own forgetfulness- Mary Eleanor was right there, after all- and continued, “yes, a tree. We have ornaments, right?”

“Tons.” Martha said as an answer. “Enough of those glass baubles to decorate the entire Palace three times over.”

“I guess that's good.”

“What about presents?” Mary Eleanor was poking Martha’s hands.

“There will be plenty of presents, Princess.” Martha cooed. John felt his heart warm at the sight. Martha was a lot more motherly than she'd ever let on.

“Good.” Mary Eleanor nodded with conviction. Martha laughed.

John chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, so a dance, plenty of tinsel, the tree, an insane amount of baubles, and presents.”

Martha nodded. “We’ll have to expand on the decorations, but luckily for everyone who has to view it, that's not in our job description.” She joked.

“Thank God.” John agreed with a laugh. “Imagine the disaster that would be.”

“Just one of those rolls of streamers strewn about, thrown over the lights and whatnot,” Martha added with a smile.

“At least give me some glitter.”

“Ooh! Glitter!” Mary Eleanor bounced excitedly.

John just laughed. “Yes.”

“It would be a truly magical Christmas.” Martha’s smile widened.

“I think it's going to be no matter who does the decorations.” He pulled his sisters closer to him and hugged them tightly. He had the sudden thought that, for his family, he would start taking lessons in how to decorate for holidays.

_Anything for family._


	10. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing Lessons & Setting Up & Obligations & Busted _(Anything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or; Remember When I Tagged Murphy's Law? Yeah.
> 
> (Also I had this prewritten before the comment that practically begged for the Christmas party to go different than the Halloween one in the original book. Whoops)

The dining hall was cleared of its tables. Instead, it was cleared to make a temporary dance floor for the Elite to now have lessons upon.

“Gracefully!” Jacklyn snapped, leading by example on how to cross the dance floor as if she was floating. Alexander was mesmerized for a moment by the way the girls glided across the smooth tile. Their dresses added to the illusion, as he couldn't see their feet under all the skirts, making it seem even more like they were floating. The boys, on the other hand, looked more clunky, even if they weren't. Alexander looked down, watching Maria’s feet move under her dress as they danced. He tried to mimic the way she moved, but he wasn't sure he was getting it. Maria laughed as he stumbled over his own feet.

“One, two, three,” Maria counted off to the rhythm of the music. “C’mon, Alexander,” She guided him as best as she could, but he continued to stumble.

“I don't think I can dance.” Alexander muttered to his feet, watching himself carefully as he stepped to keep time with the waltz.

“You can,” Maria assured him, “you just need practice.” She placed her hand on the small of his back and guided him to the beat as they fell into the spin of other dancers. Sybil was dancing with Kinloch, and they were easily the most beautiful couple on the floor. Both of them were skilled dancers, smoothly moving across the floor, much to Jacklyn’s delight.

In contrast, Alexander and Maria were probably the least graceful couple on the floor, and that didn't go unnoticed by Jacklyn.

“Alexander,” she snapped, “feel the beat of the music.” She said as if just telling him would make him suddenly correct the way he was dancing.

Maria sighed, “Ignore her,” she whispered to Alexander with a sly smile, “you're doing just fine.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Very princely.” She smiled more genuinely now. "Keep going."

* * *

The Great Hall was decorated grandly. John was definitely glad he wasn't left in charge of the decoration because it would never have been so extravagant and elegant. The camera crews were readying up, setting up on rolling stands and testing microphones.

“Is everything ready?” Martha asked as she walked up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Huh?” He jumped at the sudden contact. “Oh, yes, I think so.” He nodded.

“Mary Eleanor is thrilled.” She smiled. “You should see her.”

“Good,” John replied with a matching smile, “I'm glad.”

“When does the dance start?” Martha spun around, examining the Great Hall.

“A few hours still.” He said, stress starting to settle under his skin.

“Are you prepared?” She looked at him with a serious expression.

“Well, no.” He admitted. “Not really.”

* * *

Alexander walked into the Great Hall and was immediately overwhelmed. The room was so big and open and full of ornamentation.

“C’mon,” Maria grabbed his arm and yanked him to the dance floor, “let's dance.” The music was loud and he could hardly hear her. It wasn't until she had him on the dance floor, with its smooth waxed wooden surface, that he understood what she'd said.

“Dancing, yes,” He confirmed with a nod. She chuckled. They danced for a minute, maybe two, before she decided he was, in spite of her best efforts, a lost cause.

“Nevermind, let's sit.” She said, taking his hand and leading him to a table.

“Oh,” Alexander mumbled to himself as he spotted John on the dance floor with Kinloch.

“You okay?” Maria asked.

“Fine, yeah.” He plastered on a smile. “Just overwhelmed.” He lied as he saw John’s arms fit perfectly around Kinloch’s waist and his stomach twisted painfully. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes off of them.

Of course John would pick Kinloch as his first dance of the night. Kinloch was the most talented dancer of the boys, Jefferson was good, too, but he was too busy skirting from partner to partner. Alexander was just a fish out of water on the dance floor. Still, he couldn't stop the pinpricks of doubt stabbing into his mind at the sight.

“Let's get some drinks.” He said suddenly, standing up and pushing his chair back.

“Um, okay.” Maria said, clearly not sure what was going on, but content to go along with it- whatever it was. Alexander snatched a cup- a bit more aggressively than necessary- for himself and one for Maria, passing it over to her.

“You alright?” She asked as she accepted the cup.

“Dandy.” He said, a twinge of sarcasm seeping through.

“Alexander…?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head, trying to shake his building negative feelings. Tonight was supposed to be a happy holiday and here he was wallowing in his own lowly self pity and bitterness.

“I… I think I'm gonna go find Sybil.” Maria said after a moment of silence between them. She slid out onto the floor and moved to find Sybil.

Alexander sighed, watching John now dancing with Catherine. He wasn't so much jealous now of her, but just generally that he wasn't dancing with _him_.

He sat down with his drink and slowly took sips as John went from one Elite to the next, offering dances to them at the start of each new song. It wasn't until he'd watched John dance with every other Elite that John finally approached Alexander.

“May I have this dance?”

As much as Alexander wanted to be bitter and say no, he couldn't. He took John's hand with an unhappy smile.

“What's wrong?” John noticed his facial expression.

“I don't know, watching you dance with literally everyone else was…” Alexander trailed off and shrugged as he let John pull him into the fray of dancers.

“Oh, no.” John laughed, which shocked Alexander into making eye contact. “I was just getting all of my obligations out of the way. For appearances, I had to dance with all of the Elite, so I figured I’d get the others out of the way so I could spend the rest of the night with you.” They swayed and Alexander wasn't sure if it was the dancing or if he had been lightheaded for a moment. Possibly both.

“Oh,” He breathed out.

They were on their second dance when the shouting broke out. They separated and moved towards the sound.

Cameras were centered over Maria and Sybil, who had been caught kissing.

Alexander felt everything inside of himself shatter. He couldn’t protect his friends like he'd wanted to do badly.


	11. Voice(less)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning After & Mob Mentality (Caning, Stone-Cold, Screaming) & Family Resemblence (Haunted, _Broken Trust_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or; Just When Everything Was Getting Better........
> 
> whoOPS my HaND slippEd

The word on everyone’s lips after the incident was aired was _‘traitor’_. Alexander, however, wasn't saying much of anything. He’d all but sewn his lips together, not being able to get words out anyway.

“Mister Alexander…” Lafayette tried to pull him from his bed. “Please.” Alexander realized then what a burden he was being upon Lafayette’s job, so he forced himself up. He stayed silent, though, as he wasn't sure his voice was there to use in the first place. “We need to have you dressed and ready for… well,” Lafayette couldn't finish his sentence, “in about half an hour.”

Alexander knew what Lafayette was trying to say, and to say he did not want to get ready and go was an understatement. Nonetheless, he shoved himself out of bed and allowed Lafayette and Mulligan to dress him like a limp doll. They had to walk him like one, too, to the event- Maria and Sybil’s _punishment_ for being caught as traitors.

Alexander wanted to puke.

There were crowds and crowds of people outside, gathering around the stage- a goddamn _stage_ , Alexander wanted to scream- where two sets of shackles were waiting. His head was aching. There were cameras and spectators. His throat was dry.

The crowd was eager, cheering on the guards as they dragged his friends- _his friends_ \- onto the stage. He felt disturbed, watching people with their sickening mob mentality cheering on the impending brutality.

He watched, his throat tight, as they were both brought to the shackles and locked inside them. An announcer came to the front of the stage and started talking, but Alexander’s ears were ringing too loudly for him to hear anything other than a buzz of noise.

Off to the side sat the royal family. Pristine as ever, sitting calmly in their chairs. The two youngest children were not there, for obvious reasons, but John and his sister were on either side of their father. Alexander watched their faces, looking for something in their steely gazes. Martha looked visibly under duress, her jaw was clenched and shifting. But, beside her, John looked all too calm.

He could make out his a few words of the announcer’s:

“The punishment for this crime is fifteen lashings each. From here on, you are both dirt. You are Eights.”

He winced. He'd seen people lashed in the local town square before, usually for minor infringements like stealing. They'd get two, maybe three total lashes, and he could tell they were painful. The cane wasn't just a single strip of wood, it was a splintered so when it stuck it's victim, it vibrated and came down several times in one strike.

He finally forced himself to look at his friends. Both of them were dirty, their elegant dresses that must've been hand sewn for the Christmas party were torn around the bottoms and sleeves. Both of their faces were tear stained.

When the first lash came down, all he could hear was screaming. But it was a mixture of their screams of pain his own of protest.

“Leave them! For God’s sake- John!” He shouted, not sure where his voice had suddenly come from. He was shoving his way through the crowds who were cheering it on. He felt like he was just watching himself do these things, like he had separated from his body was simply spectating an involuntary response.

The second came down.

“Stop this! You can't do this-” He screamed as loud as he could, his voice going hoarse. He was near the stage now, almost climbing onto it.

He was so close that when the third came down, he could hear the clear _snap_ of the splintered wood.

“Sir-” A guard reached for him, trying to stop his ascent. He kicked at the guard, struggling against him.

The fourth lash echoed in his ear drums.

“Let me go, dammit!” He turned his head as best as he could with his body still held back.

The fifth came down.

“John!” There were tears now reaching his mouth, he could taste them.

The sixth struck harshly.

“John, please!” He could hear his voice crack.

The seventh ripped through the air.

He could tell that John heard him screaming, but he wasn't turning his head at all to acknowledge the sound. Martha had twitched slightly, almost looking at him but regaining composure so quickly Alexander wasn't sure if she had even lost it in the first place.

The eighth lash rang out.

“Please!” His voice was hoarse, he was being yanked away by two guards now, and he couldn't hold up against them. They roughly pulled him away, though he continued to kick and swing his fists as much as he could within the restraints.

Nine.

“Let me _go_!”

“Sir, please calm down.” The guard sounded way too calm which ignited his anger even further. He thrashed as violently as he could, but they held tightly to his arms and legs. The two guards managed to drag him inside the Palace into the arms of his butlers, who he couldn't find the will to fight against and instead allowed them to take him.

“Mister Alexander,” Lafayette held his face to look in his eyes, “come lay down.”

His was voice gone again, he bravado melted away somewhere along the journey from the outdoor stage to the door to his room. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, it seemed just moments before he was a few steps away from the stage, and now he was a few steps away from his bed, where he collapsed.

His brain couldn't process what had happened, he hadn't even been able to be there through the whole ordeal.

The way the people _cheered_ , and of course they cheered, Sybil and Maria were part of the Selected- the Elite, at that- and in the public’s eyes, they had cheated on the Prince. The public didn't know that John knew, that none of the girls were even in the running anyway. They didn't know and so they felt more than justified watching the two girls take the punishment.

But, what haunted him the most was not the public’s reaction, that he could expect. What truly haunted him was John’s reaction- the cold silence, the way he wouldn't even somewhat look at Alexander, the emotionless facial expression.

It was the first time Alexander truly saw the resemblance between John and his father.


	12. What Had To Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Composure & Infirmary & Asking A Lot

“Alexander.” John tried to reach out to grab Alexander’s shoulder.

“Don't _touch_ me.” Alexander flinched away, smacking at John’s hand. His face contorted, a mixture of anger and sadness brewing.

“Please, you have to understand-”

“No, I don't have to understand.” He snapped, whipping his head around to face John. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I did what I had to-”

“What you had to? What you _had_ to?” His voice was rising, anger elevating gradually.

“The cameras saw them, it was broadcast to the world, I couldn't ignore it!” When Alexander didn't immediately have a rebuttal, John continued. “Father demanded something must be done, because if I didn't… _punish_ them, the crown appears weak, and it sends out the message that citizens can get away with what is considered a serious crime. The law isn't always black and white. It may be easy to see that they weren't really in the wrong from where we are standing, but the public sees otherwise.”

“Yes, that's true.” Alexander said, but his tone was not agreeable. “But that doesn't justify your response during the-” He cut himself off, waving a hand, unable to find the words.

“I've been raised my whole life to maintain composure and act exactly as people expect me to, and people expected me to be _angry_ , so I compromised and tried to appear… indifferent.” John shrugged, looking away quickly. “The public saw crime, I was supposed to provide punishment.”

Alexander was silent, making intense eye contact that John couldn't hold.

“Would it help you at all to know they are both well taken care of?”

“What do you mean?” He perked up just slightly.

“Well…” John chewed on his bottom lip, “I’m not technically supposed to do this, so you must keep it secret.” Alexander looked confused, but nodded anyway. “I brought them to the Palace infirmary.”

He realized what that meant. “Wait- Can I see them?”

“Yes.”

* * *

Maria and Sybil both had their hands wrapped completely in bandages all the way up to the elbow and they were tucked in the back of the infirmary. John had led him to their cots and then left them to have some privacy.

“Alexander,” Maria tried to shoot up, but pain stopped her, “it’s good to see you.”

“Maria,” He breathed out, wrapping his arms around her, firmly but gently so as not to hurt her.

“We could hear you,” Sybil said from the side, “shouting, I mean.”

“Oh,” Alexander blinked, releasing Maria. He hadn't been thinking at the time of who could hear him, but rather that what he was saying might stop it.

“Thank you,” She said quietly, “for fighting for us right up until the very end.”

“Of course,” Alexander said immediately, “I couldn't live with myself if I didn't, it was just something I had to do…” He winced, remembering how John had said punishing them was something he had had to do.

“We’re okay.” Maria reassured him without prompting, wrapping her arms around him again in a hug.

“Your arms-”

“-Are healing.” Maria cut him off. “Hurt like a bitch,” she tried to joke, giving a weak chuckle, “but they’re getting better.”

Alexander looked at Sybil, who nodded confirmation, adjusting one of her bandages slightly.

“But what about your family?” Alexander asked and immediately regretted it as Maria’s face fell quickly.

“I, uh, I maybe be ignoring their calls? They don't know that I'm still in the Palace- we aren’t supposed to be- but they've still been calling asking about me. Luckily, John’s kindness extends to lying to my family, too.” She smiled but it wasn't a happy one.

“Oh,” He mumbled, looking away and thinking for a moment about what she'd said about them being family and needing to go back to them, “are you ever going to talk to them?”

“No.” She shook her head sternly. “That ship has sailed.”

“I'm sorry.”

“What for?” She said with a hint of a laugh.

“Well- I mean-” He gnawed on his lip, practically eating his bottom lip at that point, “Even if they aren't technically dead, you've lost family.” He said, leaving out the fact that losing family was all he could recall of the feeling of having family. He preferred to keep that unsaid.

“Oh,” her voice wavered, “yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Do you guys have anywhere to stay once you're healed?”

“Currently? No,” Sybil shook her head, “but…”

“But?” Alexander prompted.

“We we're hoping you could help us out with that.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Eliza started, he could hear her arms crossed in her tone, “you want me to take in two _criminals_ -”

“- _Ex_ -criminals, they served their time, technically-” He interjected in their defense.

“-and _house_ them? And you think I'll do this just because I kind of had a crush on them?”

“...Yes.” He said sheepishly. He'd gone into the conversation oozing with confidence and in just two sentences Eliza had totally wiped away his pride.

Eliza sighed. “You're asking a lot of me, Alexander.”

“I know.” He swallowed nervously.

“It's not exactly an easy thing for me do- to take in not one but _two_ people who were just publically _caned_ , risk my reputation by even just associating with people who are now _Eights_. I'm a public figure myself, Alexander, you forget.”

“I'm sorry, Eliza, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't a serious situation-”

“Hang on, I haven't said no yet.” She cut him off swiftly. “This is an absolutely ridiculous and borderline illegal request you're asking for from me.”

He mentally braced himself for the rejection and started rehearsing what he was going to tell Maria and Sybil about why he couldn't help them- God, all he wanted to do was help them.

“And if I said yes, I would have to somehow explain it to my sisters and _parents_ -”

“Eliza, please just say no to this already, I can't take this suspense.” Alexander cut the conversation down, ready for the disappointment.

“What? I'm not going to say no, Alexander-”

“So, you're just going to lecture me until I have to go to bed and hang up?”

“I'll do it.”


	13. Bloody Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinnertime Drama #2 & Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~drama~

Alexander was trying his best at the dinner table to contain his fury. After so many etiquette lessons, he knew better than to launch himself at Jefferson like he really wanted to. He was better than that.

But, the two people who would remind him of that were gone, and he was fairly certain Jefferson had had something to do with that, so maybe a little fight wouldn't hurt-

“Alexander, are you okay?” Kinloch put a hand on Alexander’s forearm, grounding him to the real world. “I know you were close to them, and you look really tense.”

“I'm fine,” He shrugged Kinloch’s hand off of his arm a bit more aggressively than necessary.

“Oh,” Kinloch furrowed his brow, “okay.” He turned his attention back to his own food.

“He's just mad his whores are gone.” Jefferson quipped.

And that was it, he'd reached his absolute boiling point with Jefferson. Before he knew it, his fist was colliding with Jefferson’s face and an unholy crunch sounded throughout the otherwise quiet dining room. It was over as soon as it started, though, as Kinloch grabbed Alexander and pulled him away at the same time Catherine reached for Jefferson and held his now bleeding nose.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jacklyn, as if summoned by the clear etiquette breach- Alexander had to choke back a laugh at the thought that she had something akin to spider-senses for bad manners- bust into the room, looking furious.

The group looked at her, a bit dumbfounded themselves, and were all silent. Catherine was still holding a napkin to Jefferson’s nose, and Kinloch was still holding Alexander back, having pulled him just off the table. It was quite a sight. She huffed, metaphorical fire blowing out of her nose.

“Come with me,” She motioned to Alexander and Jefferson, and who slowly rose. Alexander held his hand, which he was now discovering had contributed to the crunching sound, and Jefferson pressed the napkin up his nose.

“Boys,” She addressed them diminutively, “you both know better than to go getting into fights like this.”

The two were silent, both shocked that the other didn't indicate them as the instigator.

“Go to the infirmary. This _will_ be reported to the Prince.” She closed her eyes and pinched her nose in exasperation.

They walked in silence to the infirmary, neither looking at the other.

The nurse took one look at them- Alexander’s bloodied knuckles and Jefferson’s dripping nose- and sighed. “Come.” She beckoned, sitting them down in two adjacent beds. She started with Jefferson, angling his head forward just slightly so it was in the right place to help contain the bleeding. Then, she moved to Alexander. Carefully, she lifted his hand and started to wrap it in gauze and then medical tape.

Then she left, leaving the two to stew in their anger.

“I'm sorry.”

Alexander jolted. “What.”

Jefferson huffed. “I said I’m sorry.” He said, now sounding just a tad irritated.

“I…” Alexander looked genuinely confused, “I’m sorry, too.” He admitted quietly. Jefferson looked away angrily, as if hating himself for even saying it and hating Alexander even more for forgiving him.

“We’re probably going to get sent home for this.” Jefferson sighed.

“Well, maybe not you.”

Jefferson huffed again, a slight laugh, “I'm going home sooner or later, now is just a good excuse for it.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander looked at him confused.

Jefferson rolled his eyes, “I’m not so dense I can't see who’s winning this. It was always you or Kinloch. And now you've gone and ruined your chances. So, it's Kinloch.”

“Oh,” Alexander said. He hadn't thought about it very much, but he supposed Jefferson wasn't totally blinded by his inflated sense of self worth. And, he hadn't really thought about the consequences of- to put it lightly- launching himself across the table at Jefferson.

They sat in silence, but now no longer tense silence, until John came into the infirmary.

“Are you two alright?” He said as he caught sight of them.

“I'm fine.” Alexander said, holding his injured hand.

“Me too.” Jefferson shrugged, pulling the tissues away from his nose now that the flow of blood had ceased.

John sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in the same way Jacklyn had done. “You've put me in a very tough position.”

 _I've been doing that to people a lot lately,_ Alexander thought bitterly.

“I don't want to send you home,” John addressed Alexander, “and the public would crucify me if I sent you home,” he turned to Jefferson, then to them both, “can you two keep a secret?”

They looked at him, shocked. He rolled his eyes.

“No one else but the other Elite know and I've already asked them for discretion about this situation.” John said slowly. “So, if i could get a promise of discretion from you two, we’d be set to just pretend this didn't happen.”

“Fine by me.” Jefferson said with an eye roll. Alexander looked over at him, shocked for the second time to hear him speak first.

“Um,” He stuttered, struggling to find the few words he needed, “yeah, I can do that.”

“Is your hand okay? How long do you need it to be bandaged?” John took held his bandaged hand in his own hands.

“I don't know, I'd have to ask the nurse.”

“Okay, well…” John trailed off, “if you need it to be on for more than a few days, we’ll need to come up with a cover-up story for why it's bandaged.”

“Oh,” Alexander looked at his own hand, cupped in John’s, “yeah, um, we could say I just accidentally hit it on something?”

John sighed. “Vague. Easily believable.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“And my nose?” Jefferson moved his hand away from it. “Does it look like I was punched?” He side eyed Alexander.

John examined it, placing a hand under Jefferson’s chin and dropping Alexander’s hand. “Looks fine.”

“So, we’re all set to just… pretend this never happened?” Alexander asked.

“Yes.” John confirmed.


	14. Feisty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infuriating Conversations (Swear Jar #2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or; Seriously Had To Take A Few Minutes And Calm Tf Down After Writing Some Of This So I Didn't Snap At Someone
> 
> also; This Was Originally Supposed To Be Wrapped Up About Four Thousand Words Ago (Whoops)

John walked him back to his room and stopped just outside of it to talk to him. “Alexander, I understand you're still mad-”

“-Oh, mad doesn't cover it-” Alexander cut in.

“-but you cannot punch the other Elite.” John finished exasperatedly.

“You weren't there, John.” Alexander snapped. “And you’re not exactly forgiven.” He reminded both himself and John.

“You know,” John almost laughed, “at first I really liked you for your feisty personality, but right now it's just irritating and difficult-”

“-Then send me home!” He bellowed. John blinked, mouth agape. Whatever it was he was in the middle of saying was gone.

“Wh- Alexander, you don't mean that,” He shook his head, as if answering for Alexander.

“Maybe I don't,” Alexander relented, “but maybe I do.” He snapped back into his anger.

“Alex-”

“Don't touch me!” Alexander not only flinched, but swung his hand at John’s as he tried to reach out to him. John recoiled. “Wouldn't that just be easier? Send me home, marry Kinloch?” He sounded more heartbroken than angry. “Hell, I punched another contestant, wouldn't it just be easier to not hide it and send me home?”

“Is that what you think I want?” John slumped slightly, his voice sounded sad. “To-to send you home and marry Kinloch?”

“Well it seems pretty obvious that you're just tired of me-”

“No.” His voice cut into Alexander. “That's not true at all-”

“Really?” Alexander asked, still angry, “‘Cos it sounds like you’re still just irritated with me because I won't _bend_ to your will.”

“Alexander.” John mumbled, his voice soft.

“Because I'm too _‘feisty’_ to deal with, it's _really_ tiring, I’m sure.”

“Alexander-”

“I'm allowed to be upset right now! I'm allowed to have emotions, John. I'm not able to just neatly box up all my bad feelings and pretend they don't exist, unlike you I'm _real_.”

“Alexander, please.”

“No,” He breathed, “you don't get to stop me, either.”

John clamped his mouth shut, but couldn't stop his next sentence from spilling out. “Didn't we both agree that we were done with this hot and cold?”

“Then stop giving me reasons to go cold on you,” Alexander looked him dead in the eye as he continued, “or, better yet, stop giving me reasons to go hot.”

“What- Alexander!” John’s voice rose as Alexander finally turned and opened the door to his room before slamming it.

“Mister Alexander?” Lafayette jolted at the sharp crack of the door. Alexander just shook his head, not wanting to explain the yelling just outside the door a moment ago. His resolve crumbled and he fell back against the door, tears burning the backs of his eyes.

“I have a headache.” He mumbled as he slid down to a fetal position against the door. He finally let the tears spill over the brims of his eyes.

“Mister Alexander!” Lafayette, now alarmed, rushed to his side. “Herc, start running a bath, _mon amour_.” He said over his shoulder to Mulligan, who nodded and slid into the adjoining bathroom. Alexander heard the water start.

* * *

“I fucked up.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Martha hurriedly covered Mary Eleanor’s ears, “when will you learn to knock?” She hissed.

She removed her hands from Mary Eleanor’s ears and addressed her, “How about you go find Harry or Jemmy and play with them, huh?” Mary Eleanor nodded and scurried off. “Jesus, Jack, you’re poisoning her mind.”

“Sorry, not the pressing issue here, though,” He said quickly.

“Fair enough, what was so bad that you came into my room swearing?” Martha took in his expression, slowly understand the weight of his situation.

“I kind of snapped at Alexander, and now he thinks I'm tired of him or something.” He said. His sudden inarticulate language indicated just how much it was affecting his mind, and Martha took note of that.

“What exactly did you say?”

“Just that- that I like him for his feisty personality at first but now it was… difficult. And I think I said irritating. I don't remember exactly.” He shook his head.

“Did it not just happen?” She asked, a bit sarcastic but mostly serious.

“Yeah, it did.” He shrugged.

She noted the way he didn't correct himself for saying ‘yeah’ before proceeding, “Are you just selectively remembering it?”

“Probably…” He admitted softly.

“You're a fool.” Martha commented flippantly.

“Not helping.”

She huffed, “I think you need to hear it.”

“Maybe,” He relented.

“You're a fool, and he’s one too.”

“Huh?”

“Weren't we supposed to be _fixing_ his reputation with the people?” Martha waited for John to nod for confirmation before continuing, “His little stunt at the punishing was not appreciated by the general population. Not even the lower castes can empathize here. And he’s a damn fool for doing it.”

“He was fighting for his friends.”

“I know, Jack, I saw him. But,” she sighed, “if he ever wants a future with you he’s going to need to learn how to bite his tongue sometimes,” she rolled her eyes, “no matter how much he wants to speak out.”

“He'd have to bite it off.” John said. His tone was light and joking, but his words rough and bitter. And, though the suggestion of Alexander actually biting off his tongue was a joke, the fact that that would be the only thing to truly silence him was not a joke in the slightest.

“Perhaps.” Martha agreed. “But, that's why _he’s_ a fool. You're a different story.”

“Wha-”

“First off, you have a problem with not knowing when to bite your tongue. Sure, where it really counts- on camera, addressing the public- you have it down to a science. But when it comes to Alexander, you always spill. First, you slip up and just randomly tell him you love him,” John winced at being called out suddenly, “then call him infuriating when he gets upset at catching you after almost sleeping with someone else,” his frown deepened, “then say he’s irritating because of a trait you were initially attracted to him for.”

“When you put it that way-”

“You sound like a goddamn idiot.” She finished for him

“Language.” He joked, but his voice was clipped.

“We should start a swear jar,” She sighed. “And another jar for every time one of you says something stupid. I be a friggin’ millionaire in no time.”

“You already are, Martha. You're the princess.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, but a millionaire on my own terms.” She laughed. “The money that belongs to the crown doesn't belong to me, not really. It doesn't belong to you, either, but it will one day. When Father gives up his power, God only knows when that'll happen. But I'd like to have some power of my own, you know?”

“Yeah.”


	15. Kinloch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not) Enemies & Rooftop Infidelity & Mother Versus Sister

“Alexander,” Kinloch touched his arm, gentle and soothing, “are you alright…?” He pointed to his bandaged knuckles.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah,” Alexander shook his head, contradicting his next statement, “I'm fine.”

“So, neither of you are leaving, right?” Kinloch asked, brushing his fingers over Alexander’s bandages, examining the nurse’s work. His tone might've been a bit disappointed, but Alexander tried to ignore it.

“No, we aren't. Not… not yet.” Alexander’s voice was a bit hoarse.

“Okay.” He nodded, and Alexander noted the difference between his response now and the previous close call with leaving. Before, it was _‘good,’_ now it's _‘okay’_. The tension between them had mounted, realizing it was just them, they were each other’s worst and best competition.

As if reading his mind, Kinloch spoke again. “It's really just us,” he looked Alexander in the eye, “you do know that, right?”

“Yes.” His throat was tight.

Kinloch nodded, then swallowed. “I'm… I’m going to be honest with you, I think it's you.”

“Huh?”

“Don't get me wrong,” Kinloch started quickly, “I want it to be me, Lord knows,” he laughed, a dreamy look in his eye and a husky sound to his voice, “I want him,” he cleared his throat, “but, ah, I think he wants you.”

Alexander swallowed, hard. “Don't be so sure.”

Kinloch looked at him, shocked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Alexander struggled to articulate what he was thinking, “We argue. A lot.” Alexander paused and Kinloch laughed humorlessly, “I'm stubborn and he’s kind of tired of it.”

“Oh.” Kinloch said, but he didn't sound happy or sad, just a bit confused. “I don't want us to be enemies, Alexander.”

“I don't either.” He agreed, not sure where Kinloch was going with this line of conversation.

“If ever one of us is absolutely sure who it is, we should tell each other. So, like,” Kinloch rolled his neck, “you know how they broadcast the final choice, right?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn't want to be out of the loop, and I'm sure you wouldn't either,” Alexander nodded, “so, if you're ever totally sure it's you, I’d like to know before the live broadcast. And I'd do the same for you if I'm ever sure it's me.”

Alexander nodded again, “I think that would be good.”

“So,” He began, trying to adopt a light and joking tone after the heavy conversation, “I still have a chance, eh?” Alexander tried to laugh.

* * *

“Kinloch,” John felt something relax inside him as he met up with Kinloch, “where would you like to go?”

Kinloch hummed for a moment, “How about the roof?”

John faltered, almost choking on air. “What?”

“You have dates up there all the time. Why not now?” He said innocently, looking at John. He didn't know the nerve he was hitting on, he didn't know that the only person John had dates with there was Alexander-

“Um,” John looked away, focusing on not tripping over his own feet again, and shoving away the thoughts, “sure.” He agreed, trying to swallow the strange feeling climbing up his throat.

So, he looped his arm politely with Kinloch’s and lead him to the roof.

“Wow,” Kinloch’s eyes swept across the skyline, the one Alexander loved so much-

“It is quite beautiful, isn't it?” He cut his own thoughts off by forcing words out.

“Yes.” He breathed. He walked to the edge, placing his hands on the sides, standing in a way not unlike the way Alexander would-

John forced himself to take a few steps forward, joining Kinloch at the edge.

Kinloch turned to look at him, and John could not deny he was beautiful. With the sun behind him, providing a beautiful backlighting, creating an almost halo effect around his hair. It was mesmerizing.

“John?” Kinloch was saying something but John was spaced out.

“Huh?” He blinked.

“I asked about the gardens up here. Who tends to them so nicely?”

“Oh,” John laughed to himself for missing such a simple question, “typically someone from the Palace staff, but I know Martha likes to bring the kids up to garden every now and then.”

“Not very princessly,” Kinloch pointed out, “but I guess that's why no one could even guess that she does it.”

“She does a lot of things that aren't ladylike.” He shrugged. “I supposed I'm just kind of used to it.” He chuckled softly to himself, thinking of his sister’s shenanigans.

“Do your younger siblings enjoy it?”

“If they didn't, Martha wouldn't bring them up here to do it, she's too motherly sometimes.”

Kinloch hesitated, looking away and then back at him, “Does she feel like she has to replace her?”

John’s head snapped up, alert at the sudden mention of his mother, “Uh,” He wasn't sure how to answer the question.

“Sorry, that was rude.” Kinloch waved a hand. “You don't have to answer that.” John felt a weird pang of confusion. Conversations like this were usually the type he had with Alexander. On the roof, too…

“I think she does.” He answered anyway, finding the words. Kinloch looked at him, a bit startled as he wasn't expecting a response.

“My-my mom isn't around much,” He shrugged like it was a casual thing, “modeling is a shockingly busy job- she's almost never in town. So my sister tends to take a motherly role.”

“The line between sister and mother get blurred so easily, don't they?” John said, intending to make it a joke, but having it come out sounding much more serious.

Kinloch puffed out a breath of air in a half abandoned laugh, “Yes. I feel bad for her, though. My sister, I mean. And yours, I suppose. They're so young and already having to fill such a big role…”

“Stressful.” John added inarticulately.

“I can only imagine.” Kinloch shrugged. “It's getting dark already,” he observed quietly, “we should head inside soon.” He advised.

“Let us go in now,” John held out his arm to loop with Kinloch’s, which he did, and the pair headed inside.

Walking off the roof with someone on his arm other than Alexander felt almost like he had committed some infidelity.


	16. Back and Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titles & Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS ONLY LIKE 700 HUNDRED WORDS AND IM SORRY

John gave a tentative knock to Alexander’s door. Lafayette swung the door open, eyes widening at the sight of John.

“Oh. Your Highness.” He said, stunned. “Um, you're here for Mister Alexander, yes?” John nodded. “Of course, of course.” He shut the door. John blinked, a bit disoriented from the exchange.

There was some muffled talking before the door opened slowly, and Alexander eyed him. “Your Highness.” He said and the words sounded so foreign from Alexander’s mouth, the last time he'd heard him say the title without a joking tone was when he’d come to retrieve him for their first official date. This time it carried a serious, bordering on angry, inflection.

“Alexander,” He tried, but was cut off.

“ _’Mister’_.” Alexander said sharply.

“Seriously, Alexander?” John closed his eyes for a moment and huffed.

“What? Am I being too stubborn now? Gonna run to Kinloch?” His words were taunting but his tone was pained.

“What are you talking about?”

“We talk now.” Alexander said as if that explained everything. “Me and Kinloch. We talk.”

“Okay, and…?”

“Right after our… argument, you took him to the roof.” Once again, the anger in his words clashed with the actual sorrow of his voice.

“Alexander-”

“Why?” His voice cracked now, betraying the real hurt.

“He-he asked…” John trailed off, shrugging, unsure of how to explain himself.

Something clicked behind Alexander’s eyes, “That _bastard_.” He spat under his breath.

“Alexander?” John frowned, unsure of what Alexander was saying.

“Nothing, nothing.” Alexander waved a hand. “Never mind.”

“Are you okay?” John rested a hand on Alexander’s shoulder and was relieved when he didn't get shrugged off.

“Dandy.” Alexander closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. John could almost see him counting to ten. “I'm fine, John. I swear.”

* * *

“What the fuck.” Alexander said as soon as he next saw Kinloch- in the parlor talking to Miss Catherine.

“Wha- Alexander!” Catherine looked at him with disapproval.

“My apologies, Miss Kitty.” He opted for the nickname to soften her. “May I speak to Mister Kinloch alone?”

He wasn't sure what of the thousands of ideas he was employing to win her over worked, but she simply nodded and walked away.

“What happened to not being enemies?” He asked once she was out of earshot.

“What do you mean?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“I talked to John,” Alexander said, feeling exhausted with all the back and forth (he'd talked to Kinloch leading him to talk to John leading him to come back to Kinloch), “and I know the game you're trying to play here.”

“Alexander?” His tone was less confused and more defensive now.

“See, the way I heard it from you, he took you up the roof of his own whim and ‘oh the view was so beautiful,’ but according to him, you _asked_ to go up there, and I'm just trying to find the middle ground of truth here.” Alexander clenched his jaw, his voice tightening at the end of his sentences.

Kinloch shifted uncomfortably, the interrogation settling in. “Okay.” He said, clipped. “I did ask him to go up there.”

“Why?” The anger had melted into frustration and confusion.

“Because,” he huffed out a breath, “I guess I wanted to see what was so special about it. About you.”

“What?” Alexander was shocked.

“No matter what I do, no matter what you say, he favors you!” Kinloch waved his arms around a bit as he talked before settling again. “No matter how much I try to- to try and carve out some part of his heart for me, there isn't the room. So- so-” He made a frustrated noises, feeling inarticulate and like his explanation could never level up to what he was really feeling. “So I asked him to go up there because, _yes_ , I know that's your space, and I wanted to try and make some space for myself.”

Alexander was speechless. Some part of him in the back of his mind told him he should apologize for being so angry with him, because now he could see he was just heartbroken.

“Sorry, it's not your fault I fell so hard and he didn't. Not for me, at least.” Kinloch looked away and sighed.

Alexander looked away too, still not sure how to respond. They sat in silence like that for awhile, an almost comfortable understanding settling over them and the tense air in the parlor dissipating.


	17. Unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Compromise & Intimidation~~  
> Control & Bribery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, five chapters ago: I should start wrapping this up  
> me to me: drag it out
> 
> I swear the end is nearing, though! This chapter is a little longer to make up for the really short one last time <3

“Jack.”

“Yessir?” John brought his eyes up to meet his father’s stare.

“It has recently… come to my attention that the Elite have been narrowed down quite a bit, and there's only Miss Catherine as far as the ladies go.”

“Yes,” John said stiffly, unsure of what exactly his father was looking for as an answer; he was just stating the obvious at the moment.

“Sit down, son.” He said, gesturing to the chair across the office desk that occupied the corner of his father’s study. John obeyed swiftly, not wanting to create any more trouble then he already knew he was in.

His father looked askance, then back at him. “So you plan to marry Miss Catherine?”

John felt his body tense up. That wasn't exactly how he'd expected his father to approach the situation. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Um,” he tried to pick up the sentence quickly before he was scolded for poor language, “no, sir.”

“Jack?” Before forming his next response, John dissecting the way his father said his name. There was confusion, but definite anger.

“Uh,” he mentally smacked himself for all the stuttering, “no, sir, I do not plan on marrying Miss Kitty…”

His father sighed, but it sounded more disappointed than mad. “We had hoped you'd give up this delusion.”

John sat bolted upright. “What?”

“You know you must produce an heir.” His father switched back to simply stating the obvious, “And to do that you must marry a woman. We agreed to bring half and half in the hopes that you'd come to your senses…”

“My senses?” John bristled.

“Your natural sensibilities know to choose a woman.” His father said in the same tone he'd used before as he thought he was still stating the obvious. John felt his shoulder rising slightly in anger.

“What are you saying?” He clenched his jaw, knowing what his father was trying to imply but wanting to hear him say it outright. His tone dared the man sitting across from him to finally admit his issues.

“For God’s sake, Jack, it's unnatural.” He brought his hands down on the desk, not hard, but solid and causing a slight _thud_.

And though he had pushed his father to saying it, and though he had wanted his father to state it clearly, hearing it still stabbed deeply into his chest and twisted. He tried to think of what he felt for Alexander or Kinloch as ‘ _unnatural_ ’ as his father put it, but it just deepened the already mortal wound.

“Sir-”

“I know initially I had said we _encouraged_ you to choose one of the ladies but we have come to the point where can no longer encourage and must demand it.”

“No.”

“What are you saying?” Fury dripped from every word. “Jack?” He said when John did not respond quickly enough.

“No.” He repeated before he lost his nerve.

His father sighed again, still disappointed, but now frustrated, too. “I anticipated some… _resistance_ -”

“- _Resistance?_ -” John said incredulously, but before he could continue.

“-so we've prepared another… _compromise_ ,” He swallowed the word, a bitterly. “Eliminate Mister Alexander.”

“What?” John sat up and out of his chair so quickly he almost fell.

“You have permission to marry either Mister Thomas or Mister Francis. Both come from influential families with enough younger siblings to provide heirs either as themselves or through their children.” His father laid out exactly the advisors’ thinking.

“You can't control the Selection.” John said, feeling the shock settle in.

“No,” He agreed with a stiff but relenting nod, “but I control you.”

John felt his heart smack against his rib cage.

“Alexander is a nuisance anyway, he brings so much controversy. Francis is so much more calm and reserved. I'll admit Thomas is not my favorite, but he's powerful and knows how to handle fame. Alexander seems to struggle every step of the way and make a fool of himself in every way possible. I didn't think it would be a problem for you to finally just cut him out.” His father spoke down of Alexander so fluidly, John was almost offended for him. But he reminded himself that Alexander could fight his own battles in an attempt to tamper his growing anger.

“No.” He repeated, feeling like a broken record, but maybe it was necessary since it didn't seem like his father was listening.

His father leveled him with a stare. “Those are your only options, Jack. Either go through with marrying Miss Catherine or eliminate Mister Alexander and pick one of the Twos.”

* * *

“Alexander, I'm glad I ran into you.”

“Oh, um, hello, your Majesty.” Alexander nearly tripped over his own feet as he almost ran squarely into the King.

“Walk and talk.” He said smoothly, putting a forceful hand on Alexander’s shoulder and twisting him around so they were now walking in the opposite direction to where Alexander had been heading. He didn't release his shoulder once they were turned, on the contrary, he tightened his grip. Alexander felt small for a moment before acknowledging that was exactly what the King wanted him to feel, so he tried to posture.

“What is it you'd like to talk about?” Alexander said, fixing his gaze straight ahead so he didn't have to meet the King’s burning look.

“Unfortunately my son had taken a liking to you.” Alexander felt his face burn despite the situation. “I don't like that. For one, you are of no high status. You have no family, no high title. You are overall not extraordinarily attractive nor inspiringly unattractive. You are terribly average. We were unable to convince him to choose a woman in the Selection, but there are much better men to choose from than you.” The feeling of being small and insignificant rose again, and though he still knew that was the King’s intention, he couldn't stop it now. Having his every flaw laid out so plainly made it difficult to not feel unworthy. “I'm here to offer you something, though,” he could feel the King’s judgmental gaze shift off of him, so he chanced a glance at the King. His expression was overall enigmatic. “You choose to leave, and I will make sure of it that you are seen to and well taken care of until you no longer need the assistance.”

He was being bribed. He was being bribed and he didn't know how to respond.

“I don't expect an answer immediately, but think about it.” The King released his shoulder and patted it a bit aggressively before turning to walk away.


	18. Making Plans (ASAP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We Need To Talk & Options & Confirmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally wrapping things up & have an idea of how much longer this is going to be. Only three more chapters after this... <3
> 
> Also it's kind of 3 am and I just got done writing this chapter whoops

“John,” Alexander’s voice was hoarse, “we need to talk.”

“I agree.” John said, which confused Alexander for a moment before he could be bother to care anymore.

“Your father-” He began, stressing each word before being cut off.

“-Wants you gone.” John finished and Alexander understood now why he'd agreed so vehemently. He must not have been the only one the King had talked to previously.

“Yeah. Did he-?” He trailed off slightly, unsure of exactly what he was going to ask.

“Threaten me over it? Yes.” John filled in the gaps in Alexander’s thought. “And what did he say to you?”

“He tried to bribe me into leaving voluntarily.” Alexander mumbled, a flash of shame washing over him upon recalling the exchange.

John tensed, “You're not actually thinking of taking it, are you?”

“No,” Alexander lied. Of course he'd tossed the thought around of taking the bribe, he had nothing else to think about. He wasn't sure how seriously he was thinking of it, though.

“Okay,” John breathed out, relief evident and Alexander felt guilty for lying. “He's trying to back me into a corner.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander looked up at him, alarmed.

John blew air out of his nose, a bit angry just remembering the conversation. “Well, first he tried to convince me to pick Miss Kitty- the only woman left- and then when I refused he told me I could pick either Kinloch or Thomas, since they're both Twos and come from wealthy families.”

“And I'm a Six who has no family.” Alexander added bluntly, seeming to have no tact even for his own past.

“Well- I- yes.” John said, wanting to refute it but it was simply true. “But I'm not sending you home.”

Alexander looked at him, only a little bit shocked. He wasn't shocked that John wanted him to stay, but to continuously go against his father’s wishes…

“Unless, of course, you want to leave,” John bit his lip and looked at Alexander, who shook his head to indicate ‘no.’ “Okay,” John breathed out, considering his options. With his father placing pressure from both ends, he had to make a move, and fast.

“John?” Alexander said after a beat of silence, trying to crack through John’s seemingly impenetrable field of thoughts.

“If I want to get around this, I’d have to end the Selection. _Now_. I cannot drag my feet any longer with my father looming over.” He said, measured and even.

“I hate when you talk like that…” Alexander muttered, presumably in reference to the formal tone John had adopted. “But- what do you mean? End it now?”

“I want to give you time, Alexander, I want to give you everything but right now time is the only thing I do not have.”

“John-”

“I need to know right now if you want to stay,” He bit his lip, “as in, forever. Because, if- if not, then I have, well, easier options, but options I'd rather not have to take, so I need to know-” He realized he was rambling and cut himself off swiftly. “I either tell my father that I'm marrying you, immediately, or I send you home right now.”

Alexander felt dizzied by the sudden spurt of words dropped onto him. “Are you proposing?” He managed, his words a bit slurred from confusion.

John huffed out what might have been a half abandoned laugh. “I suppose I am. I wish this could be more romantic, but all I need is simple confirmation and we’ll have all the time in the world for something more extravagant.”

Alexander took a moment- a stolen moment, he knew, they didn't have many- to consider his own options.

He could say no, spend one last day in the Palace, inform Kinloch, pack his things and be on his way. He wouldn't have to worry about finding himself within his new title of Three, the King had already guaranteed that much. He could live comfortably, marry with less pressure and stress, and spend his days away from the Palace.

Or, he could say yes. He could continuously defy the King’s wishes alongside John. He could agree, marry John, and become the prince-consort. But what consequences would they both face upon the King’s anger? If he said yes, what did that mean for John’s relationship with his father, which already rocky.

He shifted his weight from one leg to other and then back, a newly picked up nervous habit brought on by Jacklyn scolding any other nervous habits out of him. He felt his finger itch to fidget, but held them steady.

“I…” He trailed off, voice cracking for a moment from nerves. John looked away, bracing himself for the worst. “Yes.”

John’s head whipped around quickly, facing Alexander squarely. “What?”

“Yes.” Alexander reaffirmed, this time with a nod and more conviction in his voice.

“Oh… Oh,” John stumbled, “Good, great, okay.”

“So what's the plan?” Alexander asked, looking at his hands (which were calloused from work, how very un-princely, he mused).

“Plan?” He seemed dazed.

“On how we're going to somehow get away with this,” Alexander motioned between them, “with your father doing everything he can to stop us?”

“Oh, right, plan.” John agreed, his formal language and articulate handling of words melted away. “I go to him as soon as possible and announce my decision. I-I deal with whatever backlash that may bring.” Alexander was alarmed by this, but John continued speaking, leaving no room for him to voice these concerns. “I will call for the cameras and press, announce that I am ready to end the Selection- they will be ecstatic, no matter who it is I choose. You may want to warn your butlers, you're going to need several new outfits. One for the broadcast of the final decision, one for the engagement party that will be inevitable, and one for the wedding,” his voice caught on the words ‘engagement’ and ‘wedding,’ still not believing it to be true, “and…” John swallowed, “You, ah, may want to…” He tossed the words around, “warn,” he decided, “Kinloch.”

Alexander nodded fervently, trying to make a list in his mind of everything that was about to happen. “Okay, I can do that. And John?”

“Yes?” He looked at him, worried for a moment he was going to retract his agreement.

“I love you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you, too.”


	19. Announcing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butlers & Fathers & ~~Enemies~~ Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop it's nearly 2 am and i wrote 1.1k between midnight and now

“So, I need you guys to not freak out for a moment-” Alexander started, trying to gently approach the subject.

“What?” Lafayette almost leaped from his chair.

“I said _don't_ freak out, jeez.” Alexander took a step back to compensate for Lafayette’s launch forward. “Um, well,” he pieced together exactly how he planned on saying what he had to say, “I'm going to need a few new suits,” he started again, keeping his voice level and calm.

“What for?” Mulligan asked. The question was innocent in nature but dangerous in practice.

“Um, well, one for the broadcast-” Alexander tried to get a few words out, but was quickly cut off again.

“The broadcast?” Lafayette interjected. Another overall innocent question that Alexander didn't want to answer.

“For, uh, the end of the Selection?” He mumbled, his voice rising in pitch at the end of his sentence.

“ _What?!_ ” Lafayette practically screeched. “Wait, wait,” realization crossed Lafayette's face, “if you need more outfits after that, that means-”

Alexander simply nodded.

“Oh, Mister Alexander! This is amazing,” Lafayette threw his arms around Alexander’s body and hugged him tightly. Alexander was a bit too startled to return the gesture at first, but after a moment he wrapped his arms around Lafayette’s lanky torso.

They pulled apart and Lafayette turned to Mulligan and started talking a mile a minute. “Hercules, mon amour, you're so much better at the fancier outfits than me. We’ll need something more toned down for the broadcast, something unassuming so he doesn't stand out too much- but he shouldn't blend into the background, either, but you know what I mean, right? Right. And- there's going to be an engagement party, non?” He paused for just a moment to receive a nod from Alexander, “Right, so, we’ll need something _very_ extravagant for that, since by then it will be confirmed that he is future royalty,” Alexander swallowed at that, “and then,” he drew in a quick but deep breath, “the wedding. We're going to need some completely new fabric, do we have anything white?” Mulligan shook his head, going along easily with Lafayette’s word vomit, “I didn't think so, so we’ll need a few yards of that, as soon as possible.”

Alexander was easily disoriented by Lafayette’s very swift speaking, but Mulligan looked unfazed.

Lafayette continued rambling about fabrics and other things relating to tailoring Alexander’s new outfits. Alexander took a moment and sat down on his bed, breathing slowly.

“Are you alright, Mister Alexander?” Mulligan’s voice broke through the cloud of Lafayette's rambles.

“A bit stressed, admittedly.” He said. Mulligan gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I think anyone would be in your position.” Mulligan said. Alexander laughed, but it was a bit tense.

* * *

“Martha,” John desperately pulled on his sister’s arm, “we have to talk, like now.”

Martha, who was tending to their younger siblings, fixed him with a glare. “What is so urgent, Jack?” She passed a stuffed dog to Mary Eleanor.

“Please,” He said, his tone drowning in desperation.

She must've saw something in his expression, because she simply sighed and turned to Mary Eleanor and Harry. “I'm going to go help Jackie for a moment, okay? You two be good. A maid will be over in a second to keep an eye on you.” She warned, before standing and walking away with John.

“I proposed to Alexander.” He said in a rush.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there.” Martha waved her hands. “You… _proposed_?”

John nodded hurriedly, “Yes, okay, and I've not told Father yet,” Martha muttered some expletive, “and I need your help.”

“I take it that means Alexander said yes?” Martha asked, trying to fill in the gaps in John’s rushed story.

“Oh, yes, he did,” John confirmed, realizing he didn't say that already. “And Father really doesn't want me to choose him-”

“Well-”

“-and I did anyway. I need your help here, Martha.” He said, frustrated.

“You've made quite the mess, haven't you?” Martha huffed. “Alright, tell me exactly what happened with Father that led up to this impulsive disaster.”

“Disaster?” John felt a tad offended, but continued anyway, “Well first, of course, he tried to make me choose a woman,” Martha nodded in understanding, “and when I refused he pushed me towards- or rather told me my only options were- the other two men, Kinloch and Thomas.”

“Because they're wealthy and influential.” Martha filled in, more to herself than to John.

“But I- I want Alexander,” John said with conviction.

“Of course you do, he's the one you can't have.”

“So I figured that if I wanted this, wanted Alexander, then I'd have to move fast. I proposed in a less than romantic way, and he said yes.”

“And now you have to deal with Father?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, boy.” She sighed. “I've got a lot of convincing to do. Let's go."

* * *

“What do you mean, you've already proposed to him?!” His father bellowed. He stood next to Martha, his only physical protection from their father. He wouldn't do anything to hurt him with her standing right there, he wasn't so blatant.

“I meant exactly that. I have already proposed to Alexander. The decision has been made, Father.”

He could almost see the steam pouring from his father’s ears. “That is not how this works, Jack,”

“Actually it is.” Martha, bolder than John could ever hope to be, spoke up. When both John and their father looked at her suddenly, she shrugged, “Well it is. Jack makes the decisions in the Selection.”

Their father took a steadying breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” He said eventually, shocking both John and his sister. “Fine, you can keep him, but-” his father leveled his pride in that moment with a single stare, “do not expect me to support this in anyway. And, if he does something- _anything_ \- in his usual reckless manner, he is gone and I will bring back one of the approaches suitors.”

“Okay.” He said, not wanting to push his already furious father. He reached back slightly to touch his sister’s hand for comfort. He knew later he'd face the real consequences for this decision, but for now, with her here, he was safe.

* * *

“Kinloch.” Alexander approached him slowly.

“Alexander,” Kinloch said, welcoming, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We did have a promise, didn't we? We'd tell each other before the broadcast, right?”

“Oh,” The understanding washed over Kinloch’s face as the usual warm smile fell, “oh.”

“He- well, kind of, but whatever- he proposed to me.” Alexander shifted his weight. “I wanted- you deserve a fair warning. Even if we didn't already have an agreement, you're owed as much.”

“Thank you.” Was all Kinloch said, unable to form any other words. Alexander nodded, understanding his inability to speak in that moment, before leaving the parlor in silence.


	20. Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~For The Love Of God, Both Of You, Stop Fidgeting~~ & Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter,,,
> 
> (the next project I have planned is a Be More Chill fic whoops)
> 
> also fun fact I have gay aunts who've been together forever and when gay marriage was legalized they got officially married and one of my aunts was like sweating BUCKETS over it, we kept reminding her 'you've been living with her for like thirty years and you're just now getting nervous?' And some of the characters' nerves reminds me of this

Alexander pulled on his sleeves for the millionth time, causing Lafayette to huff and straighten it out again. “Enough,” He muttered to Alexander, attempting to stop his fidgeting.

“I can't help it.” Alexander twisted the golden buttons on his tux. He flipped the cuff of his white button down. Lafayette huffed again, moving to fix the cuff and adjust the buttons.

“You are making my life so much harder.” Lafayette said, a bit sarcastically, but also a bit seriously. Alexander smiled; a stiff, tense gesture. “You're going to be okay, Mister Alexander.”

“I know.” He said, quietly. “Still freaked, though. Plus, the King is going to be there, staring at me-”

“Hush.” Mulligan cut him off as he assisted Lafayette in readjusting his tux. “This is not the time to be thinking about him. This is not _his_ wedding, now is it?”

“No,” Alexander conceded, “but it is his son’s,” he pointed out, before continuing in a hurried ramble, “and he's marrying someone he's never approved of- he's hated me from the beginning, did you know that? I was supposed to be a throwaway.”

“Well, you're still here, aren't you?”

“Barely- if I do one more thing to piss him off, I’m out, I'm gone. And John-”

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” Lafayette sighed, “you always were quite a handful…”

Alexander huffed, a tad offended, “Yeah and you guys have had to deal with me this whole time. What'll you busy yourselves with when I'm officially royalty?” He joked, but there was a bite of reality to it. They wouldn't be his butlers anymore after this, he'd be assigned higher up assistants.

“Hopefully still helping you out from time to time.” Mulligan said with a fatherly smile.

“Of course! You wouldn't forget about us, now would you?” Lafayette sounded scandalized.

“I could never.” Alexander smiled, a bit less stressed and a bit more genuine now, having felt his nerves loosen up while they bounced conversation around between the three of them. “I could never forget you two. There's no way, you're like family to me now.”

Just as he said this, the three Schuyler sisters came bustling into the room, giving neither Mulligan nor Lafayette a chance to react.

“Speaking of family.” Alexander chuckled.

“Oh, look at you!” Eliza cooed, coming over and pulling Alexander into a hug. “You look very handsome.”

“Thanks, Lizzie.” He hesitated before asking, “How are Sybil and Maria?”

“Safe and healthy.” Eliza confirmed.

“And loved.” Peggy added with an auspicious wink.

“Peggy!” Eliza squeaked, turning to face her sister.

“Just telling the truth.” Peggy shrugged. Behind them, Alexander was stifling giggles.

“What's so funny, Hamilton?” Angelica called him out. He jolted, covering his mouth before a fresh wave of giggles hit him.

Nothing, it is just really great to see you guys again. I've missed having this,” he gestured to the area between the sisters, “around me all the time.”

“We missed you, too.” Eliza smiled.

“Did we?” Peggy snickered.

“Isn't today supposed to be my ‘special day’?” He muttered. “And you're making fun of me?”

“You will never be truly free of us, Alexander.”

* * *

“For God’s sake, Jack, stop moving!” Martha half-instructed-half-chastised.

“You're choking me!” He complained.

“Good.” She said, tightening his bow tie even more.

“Ack!” He exaggeratedly coughed, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, loosening it and allowing him to breathe again.

“And on my wedding day?” He said with faux offense.

“Yep.” She didn't disagree.

“You,” he looked her dead in the eye, “are awful.”

“Yep.” She repeated, but this time with a devilish smile. “Alright,” she patted his chest with finality, “you're ready.”

“Well, appearance wise I suppose, yes, I am.” John said, his nerves rising as the clock hands’ neared the time.

Martha rolled her eyes, “You're about to marry someone you're in love with- helplessly in love with, I would know, I had to advise you through the whole process. And from the looks of things, the feeling is mutual. What are you so scared of?”

“I don't know,” He admittedly softly, “I'm still afraid that Father will change his mind.”

“There'd be massive public outcry. The public already was warming up to Alexander and once you chose him? Basically the entire populace fell in love with him, too. Father may be disapproving, but he's not so much a fool as to try and rip away someone the public has come to love so much. They're all set on seeing you two married, he knows better.”

“Still.” He shifted, feeling the fresh wounds on his back rub against the fabric. He had gotten them bandaged, but some of the marks were still exposed.

“Are you okay?” Martha noticed this shift in his posture.

“I'm fine.” He lied.

* * *

The cameras were rolling, capturing every moment and automatically sending it out to the public to see. John would have put money down that there wasn't a TV in the country not tuned to this. It was the first royal wedding in about two decades. A lot of the younger generation had never seen one, so he could only imagine all the kids gathering around their televisions to watch.

The set up was fair from a traditional wedding, though. Instead of an aisle with rows of seats next to them, the aisle was surrounded by floral arrangements. All the seats were placed behind John, who stood at the end of the aisle, already having had his dramatic moment of walking down it. His sisters stood on one side of him along with the Schuylers- minus Eliza. His brothers and- much to the surprise of anyone who did not know him- Alexander’s butlers were on the other side of him.

Behind him, his father sat, watching like a hawk for any slip up, any little mistake. He was careful to not let it show how shaken up he was by this. He kept his face calm, leveled. The way he was raised to behave in situations like this. Posture for the cameras, a calm façade for his father.

After a moment of nothing happening, the massive doors at the other end of the aisle opened, and Alexander finally walked in. He looked just as nervous as John felt, but obviously wasn't as talented as he was when it came to hiding his emotions. He never was, but that was something John loved about him.

Eliza had her arm looped with Alexander’s and they walked down the aisle together. When they reached the end of it, Eliza released Alexander in a symbolic motion of giving him away before joining her sisters.

They stood, a bit awkwardly, as the priest read off the obligatory vows, a very traditional practice that Alexander had asked if they could skip, but John warned against testing his father like that.

Finally, finally the spoken part of the ceremony came to an end, without much spoken from either of them (they'd already agreed to say their real vows in private, a little secret of theirs to keep).

“You may now kiss.” The priest said, seemingly having to stop himself from adding _‘the bride’_.

And they did.


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Different Kind Of Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is REALLY REALLY short and plays around with different narration perspectives whoops :V

King Henry Laurens died on a rainy Thursday morning. It wasn't really surprising-he'd fallen ill and been deteriorating over the course of two years- but the kingdom still felt the loss.

And no one felt it more than his children.

* * *

Martha wasn't sure how many times she'd have to tell Harry and Mary Eleanor that Daddy wasn't coming back, but everytime she did she felt it stab into her chest.

So their father wasn't the greatest person ever, but he was their father. But Harry was only ten years old, and Mary Eleanor was eight. Neither of them had ever known a different parental figure, they never got to meet their mother. And having lived a sheltered life, this was their first real encounter with death as a concept. They never knew their mother existed in the first place, so they'd never dealt with her death.

And now, their father was gone.

* * *

Prince John was crowned King not long after his father had fallen ill in the first place- a precaution of sorts, something that was used as a safety net. He was meant to be crowned sooner or later anyway.

His prince-consort, Alexander, provided the stability that was needed. While the rest of the royal family took a step back to deal with the loss, much to the amazement of everyone, Alexander stepped up to lead. If it had not been for him, the country would've gone without strong leadership. (He'd surprised himself, if he was being honest.)

After another year, the family had resettled themselves without the King.

It was then that talk of an heir started. The public generally wasn't sure how, but murmurs of some kind of heir were beginning to spread.

It was announced about a month after the rumors had grown that friend and close confidant to Alexander, Elizabeth, had volunteered for surrogacy.

Nine months later, Prince Philip Laurens-Hamilton was born on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. He drew the attention and captured the hearts of the populace. It wasn't hard to see why- he had bright eyes and a smile that shined brighter than any of the stars in the sky.

* * *

“Philip’s crying again.” Alexander groaned.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” John joked.

“Very funny,” Alexander sighed, rolling over in their bed and getting up. “You're doing it next time.”

“Mm,” John hummed agreement. They'd been pretty fair overall about who had to get up when, so there was no reason for him to dissent. He rolled over and looked at Alexander who was now lifting Philip from his crib- which was, for the time being, in their bedroom- and cradling the crying child until he finally rested again.

“Shh,” He mumbled to Philip before gently lowering him back into the crib. John couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them.

So, maybe it wasn't the typical ‘happily ever after,’ but it was more than he'd ever imagined he'd have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck y'all
> 
> it's over
> 
> wow
> 
> it's been a wild wild ride and I'm really thankful for everyone who faithfully read every update from the very beginning of this series <3 (my next project is a different fandom (be more chill) so if you're interested in that, be on the lookout)


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